


Recovery

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Auror Harry Potter, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Harry Potter), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Potions Master Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hermione Granger had never given much thought to getting married or having a wedding. If she was being honest, she tended not to look too far into the future at all. So, when rumours of a new Marriage Law were banded about a few years prior, she had been too busy focusing on the present moment to pay them much attention. Unfortunately, this had turned out to be a mistake.Now, thrust into the middle of such an archaic Ministry ruling, she has no choice but to participate, or else risk being sent to Azkaban. When Hermione receives the news that she is to be paired with Draco Malfoy, she wonders whether the wizarding prison might actually be a better option.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63
Collections: 2020 Dramione 50k Classic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter One -**

Hermione Granger could feel her body shake as she stared down at the envelope before her. Her fingers were trembling so much that she couldn’t bring herself to look inside at the cream colored piece of paper that her name was written across. It had arrived with the morning post but took a few moments for her to actually view the contents as she had been brewing her coffee. Her morning ritual. Her robe was left open letting the crisp morning air tickle at her long legs as she moved her way around the kitchen, attempting to find her favorite mug. A cracked handle oversized mug that she had brought back with her after selling her parent’s home after the war. The dental practice title fading on the face of the mug. But as soon as she sat down and saw the envelope, she knew. She was still sitting with her morning coffee - now cool from being untouched - an hour later. 

The whole wizarding world had known this was coming. The Wizengamot had been trying to process this new Law for well over a year, probably closer to two years. If Hermione was honest with herself, she had heard the rumors and brushed them off as just that - rumors. When it became more real, she had brushed it off again thinking that no one in their right minds would allow this to happen. Then, by the third strike, she had been too immersed in trying to get herself into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures the right way - not on the coat tales of her moniker. ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ and one of the Golden Trio.

It had taken longer than she had wanted, and her first order of business had been to put a motion in to change the very name of the department. They were not in _control_ of magical creatures. They were there to care and fight for the rights of those who could not speak up. She was still fighting this on the homefront when she had gotten the paper a month ago announcing that this new Law from the Wizengamot had been _passed._ Rage had quickly taken root in her very soul as she realized what was coming.

The Wizengamot had passed a law enforcing a marriage on anyone from the ages of 19 to 39. The Second Wizarding War had decimated their numbers and all the prophets and studies were showing that if the numbers did not increase, the wizarding world would be eradicated within two generations. Hermione wasn’t sure where this was coming from, and she wasn’t sure she believed it, but there it was. 

A packet had arrived the next day with a questionnaire for her to fill out so that her match - her future husband - could be as closely suited to her as possible. There had been extensive studies go into the questionnaires and even a drop of blood to test her magic had been requested to match someone with the same magic core. Or at least, someone as closely matched as possible. She remembered filling out the paperwork and smearing a drop of her blood in the designated spot, but she couldn’t remember the questions for the life of her. She couldn’t remember her answers and that made her a little nervous. 

Harry and Ron had arrived that same night with pizza - a Muggle food that Ron was newly obsessed with - and a bottle of Firewhiskey. It hadn’t gone well when the alcohol had gotten into Ron’s system. He had tried to convince Hermione that they should just get married despite the fact that they had broken up not more than a month after the War, when they realized they worked better as friends. She had quickly dissuaded him from this idea. It didn’t work then and it surely wouldn’t work now. The spark just wasn’t there. And, with everything they all had been through, they both realized they wanted that spark. They wanted something more than either had been able to give one another. It had been an amicable break up for which Harry was eternally grateful because his break up with Ginny had been the opposite a year later. Plates had been thrown according to Harry, and Ginny still wouldn’t be in the same room as him. Even years down the road. Thankfully, due to her being part of the Holyhead Harpies team, she traveled extensively and wasn’t seen at most family dinners at the Burrow. 

But, like Ron and Hermione, he had wanted that spark. He knew it had been there for his parents and he had wanted that. He deserved that after everything he had gone through for the Wizarding World. So he had broken it off with Ginny. She hadn’t come to terms with this just yet. Ron said she was warming to the idea but Hermione had the feeling he was just trying to make Harry feel better. 

Her heart ached for her best friend but she knew it had been the right decision. She was actually surprised that he had finally admitted that to himself. That he was worthy of love. If there was anything in this world that was true, it was that Harry Potter deserved the love that he had not been given growing up. 

And now - the Marriage Law. Everything that they had wanted to achieve was crumbling before their very eyes. That spark - it was evaporating with each passing breath.

It had been Harry though that had given Hermione a glimmer of hope in the darkness that was threatening to swallow her again.

“There has to be something about this decision that works, otherwise they wouldn’t suggest it. They're literally finding our perfect match for us,” he had whispered into his empty cup. “They’re cutting out all the guesswork.” Ron had grunted, obviously not quite agreeing with his best mate, but Hermione saw the flicker of hope in those bright green eyes. She knew Harry desperately ached for a family of his own. This was exactly what he needed.

“You are right, Harry,” she grinned, forcing the smile to spread across her face despite wanting to curl into a ball. “We won’t know until we try.”

“Not like we have a choice,” Ron grumbled under his breath. Rolling her eyes, she turned to her friend.

“Exactly, Ron. So instead of fighting it and making the problem worse, we should go into this with an open mind. Merlin, you may end up with a part Veela for all you know,” she said as she reached for another slice of pizza. Ron’s infatuation with Veela hadn’t slimmed since the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year. 

“Now there’s an idea,” he smirked as he sipped from his glass again. Harry just rolled his eyes and the rest of the night had gone on quietly with only quick mentions of the Marriage Law.

She opened the post again to see the front page plastered with huge letters: **Marriage Law To Begin**. The tiny bit of hope in humanity had died, even after Harry’s hopeful words, part of her had been sold on the fact that there would be enough indignation in the community for the Law to be tossed aside. She had been so very wrong. 

_The Wizengamot has brought forth a new Law to the Wizarding Community in which any unmarried couple will be matched with their Perfect Mate. This will have been selected using a series of questions, previously mailed out to the recipients, and by testing the magic in one’s blood. Essentially testing the magical core to match someone of similar likeness._

_The goal of this Marriage Law is to procreate and rebuild the wizarding community. Due to the significant losses that occurred prior to the Marriage Law, our magical community is slowly dwindling. If we do not make the effort to rebuild, we will lose magic all together._

_Witches and Wizards between the ages of 19 to 39 will be selected to participate in this new law. For three years a marriage will be enforced between couples, giving them sufficient time to begin procreating. If, by the end of the third year, the couple is not satisfied with their match, they may divorce and be put back into the Marriage Law Pool to be selected again. Additionally if, at the end of the third year, a child has not been born then there will be a review of each partner’s magical abilities. If found that the magic between the two does not allow for a child, a divorce can be selected or other means will be looked into for finding a way to procreate._

Heremione had scoffed at this suggestion. There was no way they could enforce a couple to have a child together. And while the wizarding world had great things about them, they still didn’t understand that some bodies were just unable to have a child. There was nothing _wrong_ with that. So would they look into Muggle technologies to help these couples? She had wanted to get her hands on all the research that went into this new, ridiculous law but she knew there was no chance in hell they would allow this to happen. Even if she was the Brightest Witch of Her Age, a pet name from her youth that she was still loathed to use.

_At this time, we are unsure how long this Marriage Law will be in effect, but selections have been sent out and couples will be given three months to select a date to marry. Unfortunately, there is no returning the selection or requesting a new match. Once the selection has been sent out, three months allotted time couples have been given to solidify their marriage vows. If by the time the three months has passed and the couple is not married, circumstances depending, one or both may end up in Azkaban for three years for failure to comply with the law._

Hermione’s heart had leapt into her throat. They were not fooling around. The consequences of denying this law would force even the most resilient to comply.

* * *

Hermione sat staring at that blasted envelope for over an hour before she heard her Floo roar to life. Two long, lean bodies came waltzing out of the bright green flames. A head of dark, messy locks and green eyes locked on her first while the redhead followed along quietly. Both had envelopes in their hands and both looked as if they had already opened their letters if the ripped seam at the top was to be believed.

No words were passed as each of them took a seat next to her at her kitchen table. Harry, wordlessly, cast a Warming Charm on her coffee and pushed it into her palm. Her hands shook but she lifted it to her lips and took a sip. A few more moments passed before she felt the heat settle into her bones and push away her tremors.

“So,” she started. Harry looked to Ron.

“Lavender Brown.” Hermione let out a laugh as her eyebrows shot up.

“That’s not too bad,” she murmured as she attempted to stop her laugh, reaching to pat her friend’s arm. 

“I guess not…” he trailed off as a blush rose across the bridge of his nose.

“You always loved her,” Harry laughed but stopped short when he glanced at Hermione. She just rolled her eyes.

“Lavender is exactly what you need, Ronald,” she grinned. “She wants a house full of kids and to take care of you. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. Someone to come home to. A house full of pattering feet to come home to.” Ron nodded but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She rolled her eyes again and turned to Harry. “Alright, now your turn.” 

Harry pushed the envelope toward her. It was already ripped open, obviously in haste, so she was able to just slip the piece of paper out. 

_Daphne Greengrass._ Hermione furrowed her brow. She recognized the last name.

“She was a Slytherin in our year,” he murmured to her. “I don’t know much about her though. She didn’t interact with Malfoy and his crew as much. At least that I know of..”

“In Slytherin. Bloody damn Slytherins,” snarked Ron. “Has a younger sister too. Astoria. She’s in all the papers flaunting about all over the world.” 

“Ronald Billius Weasley,” she snapped. “Enough of the prejudice bullshit. We are adults and do NOT need you making a big stink. For all we know, she is the nicest, kindest woman in the whole world and before long we will all be falling at her feet. We literally know nothing about Daphne and she should not be compared to her sister.” She tilted her head and let her stare settle on the redhead before her. “Would you like to be compared to Percy all the time? Or perhaps, Charlie?”

Ron rolled his eyes this time but kept his mouth shut. She knew it had been a low blow, but he wasn’t helping her nerves. She turned back to Harry, “Have you reached out to her?”

Harry nodded. “I wrote a letter this morning and flew it out right away.” He pushed his glasses up his nose as he turned those bright eyes onto her. “Who did you end up matched with?”

Hermione hesitated. “I haven’t opened it yet.” She clutched her mug in her hands again. “I just couldn’t do it.”

Reaching over, he rubbed his palm up and down her back slowly. “Do you want me to open it for you?”

“No.” She turned her gaze to the envelope in the center of the table. 

“Soooooo, are we going to stare at it until you build up the courage?” Ron questioned as he got up from his seat to go into the kitchen.

“Yes.” 

“Fine, then we’re going to eat because I’m starved.”

“Honestly, Ronald. When are you not starving?” She teased following into the comforts of being with her two boys.

* * *

Hermione did not budge from the table despite the hassling from Ron and the encouraging murmurs of Harry. It took an hour or two before she could even touch the envelope. She wasn’t sure why, but a sense of foreboding was nipping at her as she glanced over the cream colored envelope. The gold script on the front was glaring at her, but none of her curiosity was there to encourage her to just open it.

 _Where’s your Gryffindor Courage,_ she thought to herself.

The shakes had thankfully gone away, but her trepidation was palpable. So much so, she could tell it was starting to affect the other two in her apartment. Ron was more irritable than normal, and the worry was seeping from Harry’s very core. Frustration with herself had her caught in such a mind spin that she hadn’t noticed Ron reach quietly across the table and take the envelope.

She was so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard, or rather she heard, but wasn’t listening, Harry chastise Ron as he ripped open the envelope. She was used to the noise - especially with the two of them always around. The noise helped allow her to feel a sense of normalcy in the world. She could hear their voices as they whispered harshly to one another over whether to open it or not. Unfortunately, Ron was just a hair taller than Harry so he was able to keep the envelope out of Harry’s reach as he used his long arms to raise it above their heads and pull the slip of paper out of the envelope. 

It was the sheer quiet that brought her back to reality. She turned to face the two of them who were both staring at the piece of paper, their faces so white that she wondered if all the blood had raced to their feet. Fear stuck its cold hands around her heart as she continued to watch them. 

“They can’t do this,” Ron gritted out as he gripped the paper in his fingers, crinkling it as he went. Harry’s eyes shot up to her own and she could sense the stark terror within them.

“W-who is it?” She stood up and felt all the blood rush down, causing tiny pricks to her legs waking them up. “It can’t be that bad. It’s not like I got picked with -”

“Draco Malfoy.” Harry cut in.

She felt the floor swallowing her whole as his words sank in. The one person that she hadn’t thought about in her list of possibilities because, well, they were not alike. He was a pure-blooded bigot. She was a muggle-born hero. The Ministry wouldn’t - no they couldn’t - it just wasn’t possible. This had to be part of a sick joke. This couldn’t be real.

“Hermione, I can reach out to Shacklebolt. This can be fixed.” Harry was offering to throw his name into the ring for her. She knew he hated doing that - he hated the fame that came with the last name Potter. He hated that he would forever be stuck with that responsibility and yet here he was offering to use his name to try to sway the Ministry to take this - what? - result back? This was why Hermione truly looked at Harry as her brother. Ron - yes he was her friend, but Harry was the brother that she never had. 

“No. The results are finite,” she sucked in a breath. “If I don’t accept I’ll end up in Azkaban.” 

“Hermione, no! He’ll torture you!”

“No,” Harry interrupted as his eyes flitted between his best friends. “The Marriage Law doesn’t allow one to physically harm their significant other. And - he’s… changed. I’ve run into him a few times and he’s been… civil.”

“Wow, that was a winning endorsement,” Ron snarked, crossing his arms over his chest, letting the letter dangle from his fingertips. His eyes were hard as he stared at the floor. “He’s a Malfoy. They’ll tear her down in other ways. And what is she supposed to do, Harry?” He whirled around on the man standing next to him. “Live in that bloody mansion?!”

Hermione visibly flinched as memories of her last visit to the Manor came screaming to the forefront of her mind. The dark, kinky hair obscuring her view of whatever was digging into her forearm. The smell of sweat and blood filled her senses. So much blood for something so small. It hadn’t hit an artery and yet… it spilled onto the stone tiles and shone so brightly like rivers traveling over the dark floor. Tears filled her eyes as the memory of that witch's cackle came ramming into her head.

_Bellatrix Lestrange._

She was dead, Hermione reminded herself as she rubbed her hand down the scar that was lying just under her sweatshirt. Out of sight. People, namely Harry and Ron, persistently told her that it didn’t bother them but the stares got to her. They didn’t know they did it. They didn’t mean to, obviously, but she knew their guilt for not getting to her in time still weighed heavy on their souls. Harry took the blame and rested it on his shoulders with all the other troubles of the world. Hermione still had to talk him down at times and Ron - well, that redhead temper was a thing. There was no fixing it.

“Hermione?” Her head whipped up. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” She looked around trying to locate Crookshanks. “Yes. It is what it is, and I will accept that. But he will not force me to do anything I don’t want to do.” She plastered a fake smile on her face. “I’m not practicing wordless spells for nothing.” 

Ron smiled despite himself but Harry kept watching her. His brow furrowed as he gazed at her. Trying to assess just how broken she still was even years after the war. He was the only one who knew - knew that she had seen a mind healer after the war for the night terrors she had experienced. The panic attacks. Every once in a while she’d still have one, but now she had the tools to make herself slow down and work her way out of them. 

Ron wasn’t aware - he wouldn’t understand. And, despite herself, she felt ashamed that it had come to needing someone else to make things easier for her to _breathe_. So she had kept it to herself until Harry caught her in the middle of one of the panic attacks. He had tried to help and she had tried to help him, but eventually she had to tell him to stop talking so she could work her way through it.

“ _I smell pine,” she had murmured as she gripped the seat she had been sitting in. “I can hear my breathing. Footsteps,” Harry walking toward her. “I can feel the cold wood under my fingers. I see the daisies on my table. I taste - salt.” Chips she had eaten earlier. Reminding her to brush her teeth when she had a moment. “Ten.” In. “Nine.” Out. “Eight.” In. “Seven.” Out. “Six.” In. “Five.” Out. “Four.” In. “Three.” Out. “Two.” In. “One.” Out._

_Harry had come to sit beside her during her attack and waited patiently while she slowly explained what she had been experiencing for the months after the war. He had listened and tried to help, but she could see him visibly relax when she explained that she had finally asked for help from a Mental Therapist - or a mind healer._

_“Is it helping?” That had been his only question._

_“Yes.” And he had left it at that._

* * *

It took a while, but eventually she was able to get the boys to leave. They had letters to either write (Ron to Lavender) or letters to respond to (Harry from Daphne). She had to reassure them a million times that she would keep them apprised of whatever was happening between her and Malfoy. Ron may have mentioned making him disappear under his breath as he had left, but she had chosen not to respond. No use adding fuel to the fire, especially when his temper was so close to the surface. 

She found herself returning back to her original spot at the table. Crookshanks had slunk his way in from her bedroom. His weary bones made him slower than usual and because of his age, he slept. A lot. She knew that she wouldn’t have him forever, but the hurt still ached when she thought about all that they had been through together.

He had managed to crawl his way up into her lap at the table. One hand rested over the top of him, petting him from his ears down to his fluffy tail. A pen and a piece of paper set before her on the wooden table top. Blank.

It stayed blank for quite a while as she tried to formulate the words that she wanted to express. A white flag, perhaps? But just as she jotted down _Malfoy_ at the top of the paper, a large black owl was pecking at the sliding glass door to her apartment balcony. Standing up, the fluffy orange creature slinking his way back to her bedroom, she walked toward the window noticing the sun was slowly starting to descend. She hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed with the boys, but it also didn’t help that it was fall and the sun was setting earlier and earlier. She slid the glass door open and the creature flew in to land on her counter where an owl perch was stationed. It dropped an envelope on the counter but didn’t move from its perch.

Slowly, she reached out and took the envelope. _Granger_. Years of having classes with him, she’d know that handwriting anywhere. Peeling back the flap, she pulled out the card.

_Granger,_

_I hear we are to marry. Unfortunately, we are unable to back out without going to Azkaban and I don’t intend to follow in my father’s footsteps so I’d like to meet to set a date. To discuss this in person. I understand that this would probably be your last choice, but I’d like to make this painless as possible. I have a reservation for dinner tomorrow night. Would you please join me?_

_Send your response with Odissius._

_Draco Malfoy_

This hadn’t been what she had expected. She expected slurs, arguments, and even resistance to the Law, let alone to a marriage with a Muggle-born. To _her._

Her response had been quick. She had jotted down a yes and sent the owl off with a treat. She then made her way to her bedroom where she stripped down into an overly baggy t-shirt - probably stolen from one of the boys when they had been over for movie nights after the war. 

The few weeks after the war had been the hardest. They had found that sleep was fickle and the only way they had been able to doze off was if they were all in a room together. So, for one month straight, every night they found themselves in Hermione’s apartment and crashed out in her living room. Things had changed after that, but that month had helped remind them of the bond they would forever hold. They didn’t tell anyone. They didn’t need to be judged while they were healing. They didn’t need the whispers. So no one knew. No one but the three of them.

She crawled into bed and picked up a very worn book from her bedside. _Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Bronte had been a favorite because her mother used to read it. It had been her mother’s favorite all through her life, so when she lost her parents she clung to the things they loved. _Jane Eyre_ had been the first book she picked up for simple pleasure rather than research following the war. She read it on a bimonthly status. Tonight, she needed the consistency that it would bring to her as she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two -**

Hermione spent the following day cleaning her apartment the Muggle way, trying to chase away the nervous energy racing about her. It didn’t take much to clean an already clean apartment so she had gone on a run that lasted two hours. Then she went home and got ready for dinner. It took her another hour to dress in something that she was comfortable in but also something appropriate for the restaurant. First she had put on a dress but then her arm had been exposed. That wouldn’t do. It ended up in a pile in the back of her closet. She then tried on a pant suit. Too much. Same pile.

Finally, she settled on a light pair of skinny jeans with flats and a knitted sweater. Thankfully, it covered her scar, and she still felt dressed up enough for dinner. It may be a Muggle outfit, but that helped give her a bit of confidence she found lacking lately.

Grabbing her wand, she pulled a scarf and coat from her closet and made her way out to the living room where Crookshanks was resting on a pillow in the corner of the couch. His fur was everywhere, despite her just cleaning the couch. Shaking her head, she stroked his ears before placing a gentle kiss against his temple.

“Wish me luck,” she murmured as she slipped a long peacoat on. Her wand in hand, she Apparated outside the restaurant that Malfoy had mentioned. She found herself in the middle of Diagon Alley at one of the more high-end restaurants. If she was honest, she wasn’t surprised by his choice. He was a Malfoy. Only the best, right?

She made her way inside and found a slender witch with a menu in her hand. 

“Are you waiting for someone?” Hermione glanced at the blonde who stood at least a foot taller than herself. “Would you like to be seated?   
“I’m actually here to see -” She was interrupted when another server came veering through the mass of people and smiled at her.

“Miss Granger,” he bent down in a small bow before turning his gentle smile toward her. “We’ve got your table ready in the back. If you’ll please follow me.” She fell in step behind him as he made his way toward the back of the building. He led her through a set of doors and then up a set of stairs that opened up to give a view of all those below them. Her gaze was so focused on the mass of people moving below them that she hadn’t noticed the other body in the room.

* * *

Draco Malfoy took a sip of the faerie wine that he had requested for this dinner. A dinner he dreaded with every fiber of his being so the liquor had been a necessity. He glanced down at his black suit and winced. Black had always been his attire and it was a very hard habit to quit. It probably didn’t serve as a great reminder though.

Taking another sip of the wine, he watched as two people made their way into the private dining area he had requested. It helped that this balcony was charmed with a notice-me-not so those below them wouldn’t think to look up at them. Perfect for this meeting. Perfect for what was about to transpire between two enemies. Former enemies? He wasn’t sure, but he took the time to get a good view of the woman making her way in. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she gazed across the room. That wonder - he remembered it even from their school days. It was so  _ innocent _ . How had she not been hardened by everything she’d been exposed to? 

Her attire was obviously Muggle. But he didn’t mind that the pants were giving him a chance to appreciate that the once skinny, rail thin girl had turned into a rather attractive woman. There were now curves in all the right places and, while her hair was still rather wild, she had somehow managed to make it work for her. Maybe that was just going to be a part of her forever. He remembered seeing her at his hearing and how she had looked as if she was wasting away. The dark circles under her eyes were probably similar to his own at the time. Skin pale and a body under fed. He had felt the anger rising at the injustice of it all, but he had pushed it down into that dark place in the forbidden corners of his mind as he tried to zone out. 

Tonight was for holding up a white flag and attempting to get through the next three years alive. He didn’t want to be in Azkaban and he didn’t want Hermione Granger killing him for his past deeds. He wanted to make something of himself - away from the Malfoy name. And he was going to prove to all the naysayers that it could be done. It would happen. He’d make sure of it.

One good trait he had inherited from his father was the resilience gene. Once a Malfoy set their mind to something, they were all in and would not stop until it was achieved. His future was just that. A future free of the dark tarnish that came with his last name, his past deeds, and the sins of his father.  _ This had to work, _ he constantly reminded himself. He needed to make this work for the three years required. He needed to make sure that they survived this so he could forge ahead. He wouldn’t deny that while he abhorred the idea of being married in general, the silver lining was that she would be good for his image if he could somehow create a civil relationship between the two of them.

Another sip and he set the glass down. Pushing himself up from the table, he made his way over to her. Slowly though so not to startle her from her trance. 

“Granger,” he murmured as he came to a stop a few feet away from her. He watched as her whole body tensed before her gaze turned from the view to look at him.

* * *

She’d recognize that smirk anywhere. It haunted some of her milder dreams. That smirk was usually followed with a taunt in her dream, before she would wake up. Those dreams were few and far between, more an annoyance than anything.

He had changed a bit. Not much. He didn’t look as thin as she last saw him, but his build was still tall and lean. His hair was cut short, not as long as he had kept it in school, and it lacked the slick gel that was usually associated with his hair style from school. His eyes were darker with deep lines etched around them. Lines around his mouth too. She wished she could say they were laugh lines, but the more she looked the more she realized they were from stress. The kind you got from staring at something for too long, squinting or just from worrying yourself into a tizzy. Something she was quite intimately aware of herself. She would recognize those stress lines anywhere.

“Malfoy,” she murmured back, meeting his gaze as she felt her courage strengthening her spine. She could not be bullied. Three years might feel like a long time now but, in the end, it was little in relation to the span of a lifetime.They could have a quick divorce, and that would be the end of that. They would go their separate ways and never speak again.

“May I take your coat?” She hesitated but eventually slipped the black coat down her arms before placing it in his outstretched arm. He turned and led her to a small table in the corner of the balcony, giving a grand view of everyone below them. 

“I didn't know this place even existed,” she murmured as she took a seat across from him. He poured a golden drink into a pair of glasses. He placed one glass in front of her before pulling his own closer to him. She accepted the drink and took a tentative sip. The silence encasing them in a bubble as they took a moment to assess the other from across the table.

“Granger,” he interrupted. “I’m going to cut to the chase.” She glanced over at him. “This marriage law is the worst thing that could happen. I hate it. I think it’s ridiculous but there is nothing that can be done at this point.” He took a deep breath as he tapped his fingers against the glass of the table. Leaning his head against an open palm as he looked over at her. “I would, however, like to make this as painless as possible.”

“Is that possible?” She wondered aloud. “I mean, we have a dark history and are now being shoved together because some oafs in office think that by forcing couples together to procreate we can save the wizarding world.”

He shrugged. “I am in no position to argue with our government at this time.” She glanced over to see him shrug, but she noticed the tense way he moved himself as he said the words. 

“Are they still harassing you?” She asked as she made note of the meal that came out. She hadn’t ordered anything and no one had come out to take her order. But here was the server that had escorted her up to the balcony serving a plate of steaming veggies and what looked like smoked salmon.

“There’s a magic enchantment on this place,” he explained when he caught the puzzlement furrowing her brow. “It knows what you want and it allows the staff to serve it. Almost like mind reading.” His own plate had a filet mignon on and a pile of asparagus sitting atop rice.

“Interesting,” she murmured as she took a bite. Happiness encased her as the salmon almost seemed to fall to pieces in her mouth. The flavors bursting across her taste buds. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I didn’t think your question was worth answering,” he responded as he started cutting into his filet mignon. “You should already know the answer to that, Granger.”

“So they are? But they exonerated you. You were not charged with anything,” she said, setting her fork down.

He could only shrug. “But my father was a Death Eater. I bear the Mark. My mother housed the Dark Lord in her own home. My own aunt was one of his most loyal followers.” He watched her flinch, just barely, at the mention of his psychotic aunt.

“You were a child in a war. You were doing what you could to save your family. Surely, they cannot fault you for that.” She straightened up and curled her lip.

“Unfortunately, they can do just that. Not everyone sees the gray areas like you do, Granger.” He took a bite of his rice. “Everything is black and white to most of the population.” He pointed to her. “You’re a good guy.” He pointed to himself. “I’m a bad guy. It doesn’t matter the reasons why. It just matters what side a person was on during the war.” He set down his fork and straightened himself up. “We are getting off topic. We need to agree to peace and settle a few things.”

Hermione took a sip of the wine as she took a moment to get her bearings. “Such as?”

“The wedding date. We have three months to decide. Do you want a wedding or do you just want to go and sign the paperwork?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m not the girl who has dreamed of a wedding since she was a toddler.” She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her.

“I can tell you without a doubt in my mind, I have never once planned a dream wedding nor have I even thought about my wedding day. That was not something I concerned myself with, especially in school. Too busy trying to make sure Harry didn’t get himself killed. Keeping the boys out of trouble was a full time job.” She sighed. “To be honest, it’s too much for me. All the chaos. All the people. I’d much prefer to just sign the paperwork and have it be done with. No big announcement. No big event.”

He nodded his head. “Okay. But I will tell you right now that we will have to do some sort of an announcement.”

“But why on earth would we?” She questioned.

“One. You’re Hermione Granger. Part of the Golden Trio. Saved the wizarding world from the Dark Lord. Two - and as much as this pains me to say - I’m a Malfoy.” He leaned back and took a breath. “If I have to fight with my mother about her only child not having a wedding, I’m going to need some sort of leverage to get her to comply with our wishes. This - this is something I can give her.”

Hermione paused. Taking her arm from the table, she rested it in her lap. Pulling up the sleeve, she traced the letters carved into her skin slowly. It had become a nervous habit she picked up. Half the time she hadn’t realized she was doing it.

“Okay.” She pulled her fingers away from the scar. “But I cannot live in Malfoy Manor.”

He nodded. Obviously expecting her statement. “I have a town house that we can live in. It has plenty of space and a few spare rooms you may choose from.”

“And why not my apartment?” She glared over the table. “Not good enough for a pureblood?”

He didn’t meet her gaze as he looked out at the others in the scene down below. “Are you saying your apartment has more than one bedroom?”

_ Damnit _ , she thought as she dropped her gaze.

“No,” she answered through gritted teeth. He turned his stare to her. 

“Granger,” he started but paused. “I know that my past has left a rather bad taste in your mouth and for that, I understand. But part of the reason I asked you to dinner was so that we could move forward. My hope is that, over the course of the next three years, we can move to being friends.” His stare gave her time to see the flecks of slate in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. She had always thought his grey eyes were rather boring. But to see those flecks - and the honesty - she hesitated.

“That’s asking a lot for someone who has not once apologized for his behavior,” she challenged.

He paused. She was right. She was always right. He’d skirted around the conversation but he hadn’t yet actually said the words.  _ Damn her _ , he cursed to himself as he set his glass of wine down. He had better stop while he was ahead. Three glasses of wine was more than plenty. Especially to her single glass. 

“Granger,” he paused again. “Hermione. I am terribly sorry for all the hurtful things I said and did to you in our youth. It was - and this is not an excuse but something that I’ve come to realize - my upbringing. Now, as an adult, I can see the error of my ways and how the teachings of my parents were severely outdated. And to be honest, wrong.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as the words came tumbling from his mouth. He used the tip of his finger to run across the rim of his glass. “I started realizing that in school; earlier than my parents would like to believe.” He stopped. He couldn’t go on. He couldn’t explain the massive swell of emotions that happened not long after fourth year and all the hardships he dealt with behind closed doors following his epiphany. That was his own personal secret and he’d be damned if he let anyone know it. Especially Hermione Granger. She didn’t need to know that she was right - yet again.

* * *

Hermione swirled the last of her wine around in the bottom of her glass. “I accept your apology.” His eyes jumped to meet her gaze. Surprise lighting up his features. She continued on, not meeting his gaze. “You’re not the only one who made mistakes… I’m sorry for some of the things I may have helped Harry or Ron do to you. I wasn’t entirely innocent in this whole sordid history between us.”

“You’re not sorry for punching me though?”

She glared at him. “You full heartedly deserved that one, Malfoy. You were trying to get an innocent creature killed because he  _ scratched _ you.”

“Innocent?” Draco huffed. “Our understanding of the word innocent is obviously not the same. But that’s in the past. Let’s… let it lie and not bring it up again. Ever.”

“Hurt your ego getting wounded by a little girl?” She smirked as she leaned back in her chair. A smug smile lighting up her face and a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Yes.” He half smirked at the memory. “But you punched like a damn beater. I won’t make that mistake twice.” He took a drink of the water that had been placed before him earlier in the evening. “Do you have a date for when you’d like for all of this to take place? To get married?”

“Not exactly. I am however off on Wednesdays - oh, I guess I don’t even know what you do or what your schedule is like?”

“Currently unemployed while I work on getting my Mastery in Potions.”

She tilted her head and a hint of a smile twitched at her lips. “You’re planning to teach Potions?”

“Merlin, no. Children are the worst. Snot. Tears.” He visibly shuddered. “I’d prefer to keep away from them at all costs if possible.” He spun his cup around on the table. “I’d like to open up my own shop one day… Possibly. We shall see.” He leaned forward. Elbows on the table, he smirked. “First Wednesday of next month? That’ll give you time to get everything sorted?” She nodded her agreement. He nodded back before placing a hand in the air. A moment later the server came over with their bill. Malfoy gave him a few coins before standing. “Well Granger, this has felt a little more hopeful than I had anticipated. I appreciate you coming into this with an open mind.”

She stood and took her jacket. Tilting her head back, she let her eyes drift to the ceiling. “I’ll be honest… I expected more of a heated argument, or three, with you than this.”

“I can understand that.” He started toward the door but paused when she didn’t follow. “I’m changing, Granger. Please allow me to show that to you.” Then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three -**

“You mean to tell me, you had dinner with Draco Malfoy and you didn’t TELL US?” Ron hollered as he sat in the Ministry’s cafeteria. She was thankful she chose to sit across from him rather than next to him. She winced at his raised voice but turned a heated stare on him.

“YES!” She lowered her voice. “And this is exactly why I chose NOT to tell you!” She threw her hands in the air. “I knew this reaction would happen and Merlin forbid you attempt to join me or keep me from dinner!”

“He’s a Slytherin, Hermione!” Ron looked to Harry who sat beside Hermione. “Are you listening to her?”

Harry shrugged. “She’s Hermione… if anyone can take on Draco Malfoy, it’s her.” He glanced up at Ron. “Remember, she’s bloody terrifying. I’d rather he be on her bad side so she doesn’t turn that on us. Better him than us, Ron.” Harry let his grin show when Hermione punched his shoulder. “But in all honesty - she is a grown woman and a talented witch. He wouldn’t dare cross her alone. He’s also not an idiot. He did come second to her in their classes, remember? He knows who her best friends are…” Harry trailed off and furrowed his brow. “Though, I’m not sure if that hinders him or will goad him on.” He shrugged again. “Guess we’ll see.”

“Oh gee, thanks for that lovely endorsement.” She turned back towards Ron. “Did Lavender and you have a chance to meet? To discuss the wedding date?”

Ron’s face heated up causing a dark stain across his cheeks. “Yes.”

Hermione waited.

“She wants a huge event and my mother’s throwing it at the Burrow in two months. The wedding invites go out next week,” he mumbled as he started picking at his plate.

Hermione bit her lip to keep the grin from spreading but Harry? Harry let out a bellow of a laugh. 

“It’s not funny you guys.” Whining, he pushed his drink away from him. “I don’t want a big wedding. I don’t even want a wedding. Can’t we just get married by signing some paperwork?” He groaned.

“Happy wife, happy life,” Harry teased.

“Oh shove off it, Harry.” Ron grumbled. “Lavender doesn’t want mom to help, and mom doesn’t want to NOT help. They’re already bickering and it’s giving me the biggest damn headache of my life.”

Hermione looked down at her plate to keep the grin from showing on her face. 

“Oh man,” Harry said in between laughing. 

“What about you?! You are marrying a Slytherin too! Did you plan a wedding date?”

Hermione turned as she felt Harry tense. Furrowing her brow, she watched the hesitation on his face.

“Harry?” She urged.

“Bloody, fuck,” he whispered to himself before he sat up straighter and looked between his two friends. “This is harder than I thought.” Taking a breath, “we were married a few days ago.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. Hermione felt the air leave her lungs as the words bounced around in her head.

“You got married and didn’t tell us?!” Ron shouted and the cafeteria quieted. Ron glanced over at the stares. “MIND YOUR OWN BLOODY DAMN BUSINESS YOU CRETINS!”

He turned back to Harry. “Since when do we NOT tell each other things?” He shook his head. “Better yet, why the damn hell were we not invited?” Hermione had been thinking the same exact question but glad that Ron had been the one to voice it.

Harry sighed. There seemed to be a lot of that happening. “Because Daphne didn’t want to marry the Golden Boy.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t really blame her.” Another sigh. “Her parents are thrilled she’s marrying Harry Potter but she has been wanting to stay out of the limelight. She wants to avoid it at all costs and now she’s going to have to marry - er married - to the most well known person in all of Wizarding England.” He glanced at Hermione and she felt her heart ache just a little bit more for her best friend.

“Harry, that’s not your fault,” she reminded him gently as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off. “Look, I know that. I do. But this is my wife now. She’s going to be my family for better or worse and I just thought that if I could make a few sacrifices for her then this wouldn’t be the total nightmare she thinks it’s going to be. I want to make things easier for her… not harder.” He looked over at Ron. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you two but we were at dinner and I just thought that if we did it under the radar, with only the Ministry as our witnesses, then it wouldn’t turn into a PR nightmare for her, or for me. Because, if I’m being honest, I hate the attention that comes with my name, too. I hate it more than anything and if I can keep her and myself out of the spotlight I’m going to do it.”

Hermione smiled gently. “Harry, I think that’s the most adult thing I’ve ever heard you say in your entire life.”

He shot her a dark look, but she saw the curve at the corner of his mouth.

“I get it,” Ron mumbled from across the table. “I’m just so bloody damn jealous that’s what you get to do and Hermione and I have to have a blasted wedding.”

Hermione raised a brow. “I’m not having a wedding. I don’t know where you got that idea.”

“But you’re a girl.” She stared. “And he’s a Malfoy.” She continued to stare, making him squirm in his seat. “Harry,” he whined, a plea on every syllable. 

“What I think Ron is attempting to say, and obviously failing at, is that don’t most girls dream of their own wedding? And won’t his family want a wedding since he is their only child?” Harry explained but Hermione heard the unsaid question.  _ Won’t they want to follow the Pureblood traditions?  _

“It’s funny because Draco and I had this conversation the other night.” She saw the surprise flash through Harry. “No. I’ve never dreamed of a wedding and never gave two thoughts about one. And Draco has thankfully agreed.” She glanced at Ron. “We’re to be married next month and I would appreciate it if you both were there.” She hardened her stare. “But it will only be you and Harry, Ronald. This will not get around to your future bride nor the rest of the Weasley Clan. I want this to be as quick and painless as possible.”

“Fine.” He snapped, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me though. Shouldn’t you be telling Harry the same thing?”

She shook her head. “He’s not married to the gossip queen,” that she knew of. “Nor is he part of a giant family of redheads.”

“He could have been,” he snarked but the moment he said it she could see the regret in his eyes. “Damnit - I’m sorry Harry. I didn’t mean - “

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. Hermione knew but she left it alone when Ron turned to her again.

“Do I have to dress nicely?”

“Honestly, your Auror robes are fine.” He grinned, a plan flitting across his brain as she spoke. “But you will not threaten him, Ronald Billius Weasley.” He frowned. “Like Harry - I want to make this as painless as possible so do NOT go making trouble where it doesn’t need to be made. Merlin knows there will be enough all on it’s own.”

“You both are so bloody boring.” Hermione and Harry exchanged a grin.

* * *

Hermione brushed off the soot from the fireplace as she walked into her small apartment. It’s been a week since her dinner with Draco Malfoy and there hadn’t been any correspondence. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Part of her wanted to reach out to see about the next step, but the other part of her wanted to enjoy the last of her freedom while she could. Because truth be told, she wasn’t sure that Draco Malfoy was being entirely honest and everything was going along smoothly - too smoothly. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Years had passed and they were now both adults. It wasn’t like they were still stuck in school age arguments anymore. 

There wasn’t much that could be done about this Marriage Law either. So an open mind and a little bit of patience would go a long way, she was sure. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to stop the worrying and prepare herself for a future of being Mrs. Draco Malfoy.  _ Granger-Malfoy _ , she reminded herself as she made her way over to her small, but rather comfy, couch. 

Glancing around her quaint apartment she couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret leak through her. While she knew that any place (other than the Manor) that Malfoy lived would be twice as nice and three times bigger than anything she’d ever own, she would miss this place. She had worked hard to get where she was and this had been her first step in adult freedom. Ron still lived with his mother but would often stay over at Harry’s place in Godric’s Hollow. 

After the war, after discovering she wouldn’t be able to fix her parents memories, she had come back to England with nowhere to go. Yes, Harry had offered his place and yes the Weasley’s would have accepted her without hesitation but, other than Harry and Ron, she had no one. Her parents had been only children so there had been no aunts or uncles. Her grandparents had passed away such a long time ago that she could hardly remember their faces. And she was an only child so there was no family for her to turn to. That had cemented her bond with both Ron and Harry. They were the only family she had left now. 

So she had gone out and purchased this apartment with what little money she had from the sale of her parent’s Dental Practice. It had taken her a good solid year to purchase everything she had needed for the small space, but she had done it. All by herself. It had felt good not asking for help. Something she could say she had done.

As she made her way to her bedroom, Crooks hot on her heels with a full belly, she heard a chirp coming from her balcony. Pausing, she turned to glance at the masculine watch around her wrist. It was well past nine so it had surprised her to hear an owl waiting. She spun on her heel and walked back toward the living room. As she turned the corner, she could barely make out the dark yellow eyes gleaming at her. 

Odissius.

Pushing the glass door open, she let the dark bird fly to the perch on her counter. He dropped an envelope and accepted a treat from her hand. He was surprisingly gentle but she supposed anything compared to Ron’s owl was gentle. His bird liked to bite at the hand that fed it.

The familiar script was written in dark ink across a familiar vanilla colored envelope. Carefully, she opened the flap, breaking the green wax seal marked with an M. 

_ Granger, _

_ I do apologize for not getting back to you sooner. It seemed the news of our upcoming nuptials caused Blaise and Theo to throw me an impromptu stag night - or rather week. I’m just now getting back. I’d like to show you the townhouse so we can plan for your eventual move in and hopefully I can answer any further questions you may have. _

_ I do have a few of my own.  _

_ Send your response with Odisius. _

_ Malfoy _

Hermione paused. Blaise? Theo? She had to think a moment before she realized who were associated with the names. Obviously Slytherin. 

Blaise Zabini. 

Theo Nott.

She remembered there being talk about Blaise Zabini all through school. A ladies man. But Theo Nott had been a recluse. She hadn’t seen him around much and knew little about him. It surprised her though that Malfoy made mention to her of his coming and going. That wasn’t something she had been expecting. She supposed that was what married couples did but she hadn’t expected the two of them to be anywhere near normal.

A pleasant surprise she supposed. Shrugging her shoulders, she penned down her availability over the weekend and sent the owl out with her response.

Wandering back down the hall, she slinked into her bedroom where her warm creature was curled up on his side of the bed. Scooting into her side, she pulled the covers over the both of them and promptly fell asleep as the warmth and purr of Crookshanks lulled her into relaxation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four -**

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a handful of Floo powder and said the name of the address that Draco had given her.

It took a moment for the dust to settle. Blinking a few times, she cleared her vision to find herself in a large living room. A few chairs to the right of her - big and overstuffed and begging to be sat in with a good book - and a dark leather couch facing toward her with a glass coffee table in front on a fluffy rug of greys and whites and flecks of black. Glancing around she took in her immediate surroundings. Where she stood in the living room, she could see a beautiful open concept that led into a gorgeous kitchen and what looked like a dining room. Taking a few steps forward, she went to the entrance of the dining room. Once closer she could see it held a large, dark wooden table, hand carved she was sure by the intricate swirls running down the base, with six cloth chairs covered in a fancy print of pale golds and greens. It reminded her of the set her parents had owned at the house she had grown up in except their table had been a pale wood with soft blue chairs. Probably not as nice as the ones Malfoy owned. The kitchen was covered in cabinets of dark woods and black features. A kitchen island situated in the middle of the kitchen with a few bar stools on one side for eating. A little too on the nose for the Slytherin, but it suited him she’d admit. Everything was pristine and so very clean. Spotless. Not a speck of dust. Taking a step back she could see the hallway, dark from the late hour, and while curiosity was killing her, she didn’t dare move.

Unsure of what to do, she was just about to open her mouth to call for Malfoy when a squeaky voice came from beside her.

“Miss?” She turned and looked down. A house-elf. A bloody damn house-elf was looking up at her with big, wide, and slightly fearful eyes. Malfoy was a madman. There was no bloody damn way she was going to have a house-elf in her house. Blood boiling, she had to grit her teeth and count back from ten before allowing herself to address the creature next to her.

“Hello there. I’m Hermione Granger -“

“Oh I know who you is, Miss. I know all about Hermione Granger.” The house elf ducked her head. “I’m Daisy. Master is running late and asked that I give you a tour of the house.” She started walking toward the hallway. “He asked that I show you your room toos and explain that I’m not a slave. He asked that I explain that I get paid - way too much money that I have no idea what to do with - and have lots of clothes that Master buys for me. He even buys me fluffy socks. Them be my favorites.” She walked slowly and Hermione couldn’t help but feel her stomach dropping into her toes as she glanced down at the elf’s feet. Sure enough a pair of fluffy socks were encasing her feet. “This is Masters room.” She pointed to a closed door. “This is his study,” she walked them into a large room surrounded by walls of books with a large desk toward the back of the room. 

“It’s an office, Daisy.” Hermione spun around to find Draco walking down the hall with his hands in his pockets. Surprise lit up her features when she noticed the lack of robes. “Granger.” He greeted as he came to stand beside her taking in the view with her.

“I was just getting started on the tour, Master.” Daisy spoke up from the center of the study/office.

“Daisy, please. I’ve asked you a million times. I will pay you a load of money to stop calling me that.”

“I don’t want your money,” She harped but quickly turned and slipped between the two of them. She made her way farther down the hall. “I also told her how you pay me too much moneys and won’t take it back. And I have lots of clothes.”

“Thanks Daisy.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he rocked back on his heels. “I’ll give Granger the rest of the tour if you don’t mind checking on dinner. I smelled something fantastic as I was walking in,” he encouraged.

“Okay.” Pop and she was gone.

Hermione turned to look at Draco. Her brows furrowing and her lip thinning as she tried to think of the proper words.

“You have a house-elf?” Her voice very, very low.

Draco crossed his arms when he heard her tone. “I do.” He lowered his own voice but more to whisper. “And she’s a damn good elf who doesn’t want to leave. She’s taken care of me since I was a boy, Granger. When I tried to send her away she bawled for three days straight!” He dropped his arms down and started walking. “It took me a week to convince her that the only way she could stay was that she had to accept one day off a week, mind you I tried for two, and that she had to accept the money I gave her.” 

“But -“

“No. This isn’t up for negotiation. It took me months to make her feel at home and you are not going to come in here with your SPEW bullshit and ruin all the progress I’ve made.” He held up a finger. “One - she is paid. Two - she has vacation. Three - she helps me when I need it. I could pay a maid to clean my house but I don’t trust strangers.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Please, I am literally begging you. Do not upset Daisy.”

Hermione hesitated. 

“Fine. But if I find out this is all lies or that she’s hurt because she didn’t do something I will hurt you ten times as bad.”

“I don’t hit my elf.” Draco seethed through gritted teeth. His hands balling into fists.

Hermione shrugged. “Then we’ll be fine.” She turned to go back down the hall. “Now let’s finish this tour because I am rather starved. And it’s S.P.E.W., not SPEW.”

* * *

It didn’t take much longer for the house to be shown. While it was bigger than her apartment, it wasn’t a Manor. Draco’s study, office, and bedroom, with a small bathroom inside too, were located on the ground floor with the living room and kitchen area. Up the stairs at the back of the house were three more bedrooms. One was converted into a library much to Hermione’s delight and one had been converted into a potions lab. There were all sorts of enchantments to protect the rest of the house on an off chance that something happened in that very room. The last room was to be Hermione’s bedroom. It was currently lying empty but Draco had made mention of the large walk-in closet (not that Hermione had nearly enough clothes to even fill half) and a large bathroom. She had peaked her head inside but he was quick to exit so she hadn’t been able to view the inside of the closet or the bathroom. 

“Let me know what you need and I’ll have Daisy procure it for you,” he had mentioned as they made their way back downstairs for dinner. The smell of dinner wafting through the air made her stomach tighten in hunger. She had skipped lunch because of her nerves and was now salivating from whatever smelled so delicious. 

“I am perfectly capable enough of procuring my own things, Malfoy,” she grumbled as she followed behind him. He had turned to look over his shoulder with a less than impressed expression. “What?” But he must have chosen not to answer, because he turned back around to continue toward the kitchen.

* * *

As they entered the main floor again, rather than leading her to the dining room, she found herself sitting down at the island on a bar stool next to him. Daisy the house-elf floating around getting the rest of the meal ready for the two of them. 

Surprise must have shown on her face, because she heard Draco speak up next to her. “We can eat at the table if you prefer.”

“Hmm?” She looked at him. “Oh, this is plenty fine for me. I just thought that it wasn’t proper for purebloods to eat anywhere except at a dining table.”

Draco turned a frosty look on the woman beside him. “I prefer to eat in the kitchen.” He then turned to the meal - a casserole of potatoes and meat and cheese - and started to eat. 

A glass of water appeared before her. She turned to see Daisy smiling, wrinkles at her eyes. 

“Thank you, Daisy.”

“You’re welcome, Miss.” Daisy then turned to Draco. “Master, if you are satisfied, I’ll retire for the evening.”

He gave her a nod and with a pop she was gone.

“Where does she go for the rest of the evening?”

“To watch Muggle soap operas on a telly that I purchased for her a few Christmases ago.”

Her eyes flew open as she turned. “You bought a television? A Muggle device?” 

“Yes and it was bloody damn difficult to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Let alone going into a Muggle store where they ask you too many bloody damn questions!” He huffed as he crossed his arms. “What size? High Def, 4K, I don’t even know what half that stuff is! The seller thought I lost my bloody damn mind.” He turned to her with a frown on his face. “Want to know what the worst part is? I bought her a huge damn telly and it takes up most of her wall in her bedroom. I thought I got the small one but nope, got the biggest there is. Bloody damn muggles and their trickery.”

Hermione held a hand over her mouth as she attempted to stifle the laugh that was threatening to fall from her lips. He noticed because he shot her another glare before turning back to his meal. 

They ate in silence. However, Hermione didn’t find it awkward or uncomfortable. Just quiet. It wasn’t often that she got quiet - unless she was alone. She appreciated this sort of quiet. Where she could be with her thoughts and not feel like she was excluding anyone or ignoring the other person.

“Granger.” She tilted her head to look at him as she sipped from her glass. “My mother wants to have dinner.” She froze. “She can’t leave the Manor.”

“Well fuck.”

* * *

Draco could not recall ever hearing Granger cuss and he had spent six years at school with her. They were often in the same classes and he’d been around during trips to Hogsmeade but not once had he heard her cuss. If anything, maybe a bloody damn, but he couldn't even recall that. To hear the word  _ fuck _ fall out of her mouth left him frozen in a state of shock.

He watched as she took a deep breath and saw her mouth moving, but he didn’t hear anything slip out. He started trying to see what words her lips were forming to the point that she must have noticed his stare. She leaned back and cleared her throat, making him look back at her eyes.

“I suppose there’s no way out of that is there?” He shook his head.

“If it helps - we won’t be anywhere near where -“ He stopped himself and turned to stare at the wall. His jaw clenched. “My mother has had the house done up. She says it was too dark, especially after the Dark Lord. She didn’t want him lingering anywhere - or rather, his essence as she calls it. She had an interior decorator, Pansy Parkinson, come in and redo the whole place. She wanted bright and light colors everywhere, much to Pansy’s disappointment.” He turned to look at Hermione. “I wouldn’t ask if I had a choice, but she knows that you and I are to be wed. She wants to… mend fences.”

Hermione nodded. “When?”

“I’ll reach out to her and get back to you.”

“Okay.” She pulled her hands into her lap. Taking a shallow breath, she stared down at her empty plate. Draco got up and started to clear the dishes giving her a moment to rebuild. As he came around the island to grab her plate, he watched as her hand pushed back her sleeve and started tracing old scars that were littered across her forearm. He felt as if an ice cold bucket of water had been tipped down his back as he recognized the letters peaking out at him. An M, U, D, and B were visible from under the lightweight sweater. Quickly, he scooped her plate up and went to the kitchen sink where he turned the faucet on. Without thinking, he pulled out the soap and started hand washing the dishes. Lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

Hermione looked up from the spot she had been staring at, pulling the sleeve of her sweater back down. Her eyes settled on Draco’s back as she took in his lean form. Tonight, he had worn a casual sweater with a pair of trousers. All dark. Something that probably would never change. Part of her wondered what he’d look like in lighter clothes with his white blonde hair and grey eyes, but quickly shook the thought away as she realized what he was doing.

“You don’t use magic to wash your dishes?” She asked as she stood from her seat. Grabbing her water glass, she moved to join him.

“No.”

She came to step in beside him. Taking a towel from the side of the sink, she picked up the dishes that were clean and began to dry them. “May I ask why?”

He seemed hesitant to tell her as he pushed his hands back into the soapy water. She waited a moment.

“Why?” She understood his single syllable question.

“I want to know you. The you you’ve become since school. Not the prat I went to school with. Maybe it’ll help this whole process and I won’t feel like I’m marrying a stranger.”

He seemed to mull over her answer, before he finally began, “did you know that after the war I was put on house arrest for a year?” She nodded. “Did you know they took my wand for it?” She paused, the plate in her hands dripping water onto the counter’s surface. Her eyes blew open making the whites of her eyes stand out against the slight tan of her skin. “Hmph,” a soft scoff escaped him. “I didn’t think they released that bit of information. Well, I had to do things the Muggle way. I think the Ministry’s way of getting us to understand the other half and hopefully have more understanding, I assume. And, while a lot of what they do is rather tedious, I find that cleaning dishes the Muggle way is cathartic. At least for me. It also gives me a moment to put my hands to good use.”

“Is that why you like potions so much?” He looked over at her with a question in his gaze. “Because it’s one way or the other. It’s a list of ingredients and how to do it, so there isn’t a lot of guess work unless you’re experimenting obviously, but it’s pretty much A, B, C, yes?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he could agree with that so he answered, “Yeah. I guess you’d be right. It’s also something I’ve always been good at. Something of my own choosing and something I can control.”

She nodded her head in understanding. “Lack of control is my biggest downfall,” she admitted.

He scoffed. “Imagine that.”

She nudged him with her shoulder as she dried a plate. She didn’t notice the side eye he gave her as she turned to set the plate on the counter.

“Well, I’m sorry to run off like this but unfortunately I have to go into work early tomorrow.” She held a hand over her mouth trying to hide the yawn. She used the towel to clean up the water that slipped out before folding it up and resting it to the side of the sink. 

“Changing the world one creature at a time?” He asked as he drained the soapy dish water.

“I wish I could say that I felt like I was making headway, but I can’t even get a damn name change for the department. I’m being stone walled at every turn,” she grumbled as she leaned against the counter.

“Name change?”

She sighed. “Laugh if you wish, but I think the word Control and Regulation should not be in the title for our department. We are not here to control them. We’re here to help them. They’re a part of this world just as much as us.” He could only nod. “It’s just insulting. I know some Centaurs who are eons ahead of us in their way of thinking. I knew a werewolf who was the kindest man I’ve ever met.” He glanced to see her eyes gloss over. “There are Veela descendants being persecuted. House elves being abused.” She sucked in a breath. “Most creatures, or even those who are half or less, cannot even live normal lives because people fear them or hate them. They can’t get jobs to support themselves. It’s just… heartbreaking.”

“Have you talked to Shacklebolt about not being able to get through to your supervisors?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to cheat.”

He crossed his arms. “How is that cheating?”

“Just because I have a personal relationship with the Minister of Magic, doesn’t mean I can bypass the line to get what I want.”

“Actually - that’s exactly what you can do.”

“No.” She turned away and started toward the living room. “I’m not using my fame to get ahead. I will follow the rules just like everyone else.”

He followed after her with a sardonic laugh. “Everyone cheats. It’s all about who you know, Granger. You just happen to know the most powerful man in the Ministry.”

“I’m not here for the politics, Malfoy. I’m here to make the world a safer place.”

“By changing the name of a department?”

She glowered at him as she picked up a handful of Floo powder. Biting back a retort, she stepped into the fireplace. “Thank you for dinner. Goodnight.” She could hear his laugh even as she said her location.

* * *

Hermione crawled into bed next to Crookshanks a little while later. Turning on her bedside light, she picked up her copy of  _ Jane Eyre _ and turned to the last page she had left off at. 

“I wonder if there’s a Bertha in Malfoy’s closet,” she murmured to her companion as she started to immerse herself into the book and the world of Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five -**

Correspondence between them was few and far between. They had discussed the official move in date and some of the logistics that came with it. But apprehension twisted in her gut. Normally she’d have Ron or Harry over to distract her but they both had been busy getting their own marriages underway. Dealing with their own problems. Ron had Floo called her multiple times to try to get her to play mediator between his mother and his bride, but Hermione had quickly refused. There was no way that she’d be able to deal with both of them at the same time. Her energy levels just weren’t up to par.

She’d been able to correspond with Harry a few times via letters but they had been short. Not that she expected much more knowing his habit of letter writing had always been short and sweet. Part of her wanted them around to help her discuss her wayward thoughts but the other part was also glad they wouldn’t be able to give her a headache too

Move-in day came sooner than she had anticipated though. And, luckily, dinner with Mrs. Malfoy had been pushed off for another week or so. No reason had really been given, but Hermione did not look a gift horse in the mouth.

She was thankful that magic made it much easier, and most definitely faster to pack. It didn’t take more than an hour to have everything ready and the apartment cleaned. She had sold most of her furniture. It hurt, she wouldn’t deny that, but she hoped by the time the divorce came around she’d be able to afford nice, newer furniture. Possibly support some local artisans who used wood to craft amazing features. 

Malfoy had given her the address so that instead of always Floo-ing in and out, she could use her small car to drive over. He didn’t understand it but had given her the requested information. He would be out of the house when she arrived but assured her Daisy would be there for anything she may need.

It had taken a few more dinners and more discussions, some arguments, but eventually Hermione got more comfortable with the idea of Daisy. It still bothered her but she had watched multiple disagreements happen between the house-elf and Draco. To see him give in more times than she could count, and not once did he threaten to punish her. Even when she got snippy with him. It was actually quite a sight to behold if she was being truthful.

Hermione had asked to drive over because of her car but also to give herself some time to mourn her tiny apartment. She understood why this was happening and she understood why she had to give it up. It didn’t make it hurt any less though.

So with a little help from her GPS - a gift from her parents a long time ago - she plugged in the address of the town house and went on her way. Some old tunes played through an old cassette tape that her father had left in the car. Elvis of all people. His bluesy voice lulled her into a sense of comfort as she drove through the streets of London. It took a little over forty minutes before she pulled into a small housing development. As she glanced around, a sense of worry hit her. This was a Muggle neighborhood. She must have entered the wrong address. 

She glanced at the piece of paper and looked at the GPS. They matched so unless her GPS was faulty, she was in the right place.

Pulling into the small single car driveway, she got out and went to the front door. She slipped the key from her pocket and placed it in the lock. She felt the magic around the building so it had to be right, right? Turning the key, she was able to get in and felt the wards around the house welcome her.

_ Well I’ll be damned _ , she thought as she walked into the very familiar living room.

Daisy popped in a moment later as Hermione started taking off her coat.

“Hello, Miss! I’m so happy you are home!”

“Thank you Daisy…” she trailed off as she took in the bright pink pillowcase encasing the tiny house-elf’s frame. “That’s quite the outfit,” she remarked as Daisy took the coat from her.

“Thank you. Master asked me what color I wanted and this is what I said!” She turned and was about to snap her fingers when Hermione stopped her. “Wait! Daisy, may I ask you a question?”

“But of course, Miss. I’m here for you always,” she cheesed from behind crooked teeth.

“Are we… is there a reason Mr. Malfoy’s home is in a Muggle neighborhood?”

“Oh.” Daisy looked at the ground. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say,” she murmured as she put her toe out and started pushing it back and forth across the wooden floors.

“That’s okay, Daisy. I’ll ask Mr Malfoy when he gets home. I appreciate you being honest with me and not betraying his confidence.” Hermione murmured with a soft smile to appease the worrying elf.

“Oh, no. I would never betray my Master. He has been so very good to me.” Daisy lifted her arms up holding the coat. “Yell for Daisy if you need anything.” And she was gone, leaving Hermione to trek up the staircase once more to her new bedroom. Taking the small purple bag from around her body, she slowly opened it and began to release what little furniture she kept into the room.

Her bed went first, then a dresser, the two night stands and last - her favorite chair. Thankfully the room was quite large, letting her have the chair next to the window where she could have a little reading nook. Not that she wouldn’t use the library across the hall to her advantage, but excitement curled into her when she began to set her things about.

* * *

Thankfully, like the apartment packing, the unpacking didn’t take long either. Magic had many underappreciated uses.

“Miss?” She turned from putting away her clothes into the walk in closet and came out to find Daisy standing in her bedroom doorway.

“Yes, Daisy?”

“Would you like something to eat? Miss Daisy can make you some lunch?” Hermione smiled.

“Thank you, Daisy. I’d love that.” She turned but paused. “Would you mind bringing me some tea too?”

“Is there a type you like best, Miss?” 

“A green tea with a spoonful of honey, if that’s not too much of a hassle.”

“Not at all!” She was gone. Hermione chuckled to herself before taking her tiny purple bag into the bathroom where she started releasing her bathroom toiletries.

“Miss?” Hermione stopped putting things away and walked back out to her bedroom to see Daisy standing in the doorway with a tray.

“Oh, thank you Daisy.” She went to the door. “You can come in, you know?”

“Oh no. Master specifically said that I am to give you your space and not intrude unless asked.” Hermione picked up the tray and went to set it on the bed. 

“I -,” she didn’t have words. Malfoy was thoughtful. But that couldn’t be right. “I appreciate Mr. Malfoy thinking of me, but I’d like to allow you access to my room when necessary.” Hermione hesitated. Swallowing her pride, she met the little elf’s stare. “I would appreciate your help in here when possible. Sometimes, I work long hours and my room can become quite a mess.”

“Oh Miss, that makes me so happy. I love to help!”

“But,” Hermione interrupted. “If I am in a bad mood, please know that I do like my personal space and I don’t wish you to take it personally. Sometimes… I just need some time to clear my head, okay?”

Daisy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s okay, Miss. Mr. Malfoy gets in bad moods too and I never take it personally. I got thick skin, you know.” And off she went in a finger snap.

“Oh! Daisy!” Hermione whirled around to the door frame where Daisy popped in at her name. “You didn’t happen to see where Crookshanks disappeared to? I dropped him off last night to associate himself with the house.”

Daisy started to snicker. “Oh yes, Master was quite pleased about that.”

“Oh no.”

“No worries, Miss.” Daisy snickered again behind her little wrinkled fingers. “He’s curled up in Master’s study on one of his chairs.” And she was gone.

Dread filled Hermione at the conversation that just transpired as she tried to decipher Daisy’s words.

* * *

Quickly, she finished unpacking her little nook of the house and went in search of her little creature. She went straight to the office but when she didn’t locate him, she started searching all around the house. Even going as far as asking Daisy for help when she had been unable to locate him.

They were mid search when the Floo roared to life announcing an arrival. Hermione stepped out from the hallway and was greeted by the sight of a very frustrated looking Draco Malfoy. He tossed his coat on the couch before walking past her straight to the kitchen. He went to a cabinet in the corner and pulled out a bottle of what looked like Firewhiskey and poured himself a glass.

“Rough day?” She asked as she took a seat at the kitchen island. Her search for Crookshanks placed on hold. 

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.”

“Alrighty then,” she pushed herself from the kitchen island. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen Crookshanks or know where he might be?”

He turned his stare on her. “You mean that blasted beast that kept me up all night with his bloody damn purring?”

Hermione froze. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He slammed his drink down. “That mangy cat kept me up all bloody damn night and it made me off set part of my potion so now I have to start over!”

“I’m… I’m so sorry. He doesn’t usually like other people. I had no idea he’d - I can’t imagine,” She paused. “Wait, he slept with you?”

“Yes! He somehow managed to open my door and slither his way into my bed.” He glared. “Don’t you dare laugh right now, Granger.”

“But he’s a cat - not a snake,” she whispered as she tried to keep the laugh contained. The image in her mind of her cat managing to turn into a snake, fluff and all, into Malfoy’s room.

“That thing is a menace! Keep it away from me.” He poured himself another drink. “I’m going to my lab. I’m locking the door. I’m putting every damn spell I know to keep everyone out. Do not disturb me.” And he was gone.

As soon as he was out of sight, she let out the laugh she had been holding in. “Oh my goodness,” she wheezed. “I cannot wait to tell Ron about this.”

Daisy popped into the kitchen a moment later with said furry beast in her arms. Crookshanks looked half asleep as he turned his head to peer up at Hermione.

“I found your beastie in Master’s bedroom. He was on Master’s pillow.” Daisy set the creature into Hermione’s arms as soon as Hermione kneeled down to her level. “Master would not be happy to know that he’d been in there again.”

Hermione held up a finger to her lip. “Will you keep it a secret?”

“There’s hair all over Master’s bed.”

Hermione grinned. “Good thing I know a fantastic elf who could help me change the sheets.”

Daisy started to smile. “Oh Miss. I think I’m gonna like you.” She was gone again.

“Crooks, you sneaky old thing you,” she murmured as she got to her feet with him in her arms. “You have to stay away from the grouchy man or he may end up tossing you on the streets. We can’t have that! Who would keep me warm at night?” She giggled to herself as she made her way back up the stairs to introduce the creature to her new room.

As soon as she was able to get Crookshanks to lay down on her bed, she penned a few letters to Ron and Harry letting them know about her change of address and that yes, she was safe and sound. No he hadn’t harmed a single hair on her head and yes, she’d talk to Malfoy about letting them come to dinner soon. The wedding was in a week or so, it’d be nice to get together after. Perhaps having Daphne Greengrass, or rather Daphne Potter, would help Malfoy from wanting to curse the world of Gryffindors. 

Hermione couldn’t help the snicker that escaped her as she made her way back down the stairs an hour or so later. Her pajama pants, a satin material of a soft lavender, making her skin feel cool as she snuck her way around in the dark. Not quite familiar with the landscape, she went as slow as possible down the stairs before seeing a light in the kitchen. Slowly as not to startle the occupant, she moved around the corner toward the perch where she knew Odissius roosted when he wasn’t in use. 

Taking a treat from the bowl beside him, she offered one to him before handing off the two letters. As she turned, she found Malfoy leaning against the cabinet near the sink with his gaze out the window.

“Odissius likes you” he commented, though he showed other signs of acknowledging her.

“Crooks likes you,” she responded, trying her best to keep the laughter under the surface so not to upset him more.

It didn't work. He grumbled at her as he spun around leaving the kitchen. The light with him leaving her in the dark. Scowling, she cast a silent Lumos and trekked her way back upstairs to her bedroom cursing him the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter Six -**

Hermione could no longer put it off. A week had passed before she could build up the Gryffindor courage to send out a letter to Mrs. Malfoy. It had been quite simple in it’s reply, so she could only hope she didn’t bungle anything up before their visit. 

Thankfully, Mrs. Malfoy responded right away, requesting her presence for afternoon tea. The response had been just as quick and curt that Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle. Confirming that she would be in attendance, she sent the letter back out with Odissius. 

Once he had gone on his way, Hermione had trekked back to her bedroom to find a presentable sort of outfit. Rubbing her temples, she let out a frustrated growl as she looked inside her wardrobe. 

“Daisy,” she hollered, walking out of her closet, fingers still at her temples. 

“Yes, Miss?” Hermione turned toward the doorway to see Daisy in bright yellow socks and a soft peach colored pillowcase.

“What does one wear to tea?”

“Clothes?” 

Hermione couldn’t hold back the laughter that peeled out of her. Daisy grinned back at her.

As Hermione slowly came back to reality and caught her breath, she took a seat on the edge of her bed and let out a deep sigh. 

“Daisy, can I be honest with you and you  _ promise _ not to tell a soul?” Daisy could only nod as her eyes widened in earnest. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but for some reason I’m terrified I’m going to somehow bugger up this meeting with Mrs. Malfoy.” Another frustrated grumble. “I don’t know why I’m like this! I usually don’t care what other people think!”

Daisy stepped forward and put her wrinkly hand over Hermione’s and gave it a pat.

“Miss, it’s because the Missus can be quite scary.” She leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial whisper, told Hermione, “She terrifies me too. I try to hide away when she’s around.”

Tugging Daisy into her arms, she hugged her close. “Thank you, Daisy.”

With a stilted shrug, Daisy nodded into her shoulder. “Of course, Miss.”

Letting go, Hermione stood up and walked back to her closet. “I suppose I could find a middle ground.”

Hermione arrived at Malfoy Manor with a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Just seeing the vast mansion stood before her, she could hear the echoes of unhinged laughter that haunted her memories. Sucking in a breath, she closed her mouth and counted to five before releasing it again.

“I can do this,” she reminded herself as she walked forward. 

Just as she was about to press against the gates, they started to open for her. Slowly, with more caution than was probably necessary, she made her way past the black iron and trekked up the driveway. Tugging at the long pea coat that covered her torso, she pulled the flaps up to cover her neck as the wind whipped at her. The dark black coat wrapped around around her tightly, cinching in at the waist, then fell back around her legs, ending slightly below her knees. Her eyes flicked up to take in how far she had to go, but by some  _ magic _ , she was already at the steps before the entrance to the manor. 

Gazing up at the darkened wood door, she straightened her shoulders and closed her eyes. After a mental count to seven, she opened her eyes and stepped forward, raising her hand to knock her knuckles against the wood.

It opened slowly but she had to drop her gaze to see a house elf opening the door. His eyes were wide as he stared up at her. Three wispy hairs stuck straight up on the top of his head. 

“Miss G-granger,” he stuttered as he stepped back. 

Softening her face to allow a little kindness to seep through, she gave the house elf a soft smile.

“Hello,” she murmured stepping forward. “I’m here for tea with-“

“Yes, yes.” He shut the door. “Please follow me.” His large feet led them down a hall into a beautiful, wide open room in the corner of the lower floor. The walls were painted in a light, cream color with several large, expansive windows from floor to ceiling on two of the walls. Soft, sheer curtains draped down the windows brushing against the birch wood floors. Hermione couldn’t help the shock that took over as her eyes widened and her mouth opened, just slightly, as she walked into the room. 

“Missus will be here shortly.” The house elf stated from his perch by the door. “May I take your coat?”

Turning, she unbuttoned the front of her coat and slipped it off before handing it to the outstretched thin and wrinkly arms. Her coat wasn’t overly large in size, just long, but it still managed to cover half his face as he walked out of the room.

Taking a few steps forward, she glanced down at her outfit and tried not to laugh. Her Muggle jeans allowed for her curves to be accentuated, but the tunic top - also in a cream color, much similar to the room she was in - was just draped enough to not be considered casual. Her hair was wrapped in a tight bun at the base of her neck to keep it from getting in her face, but she could still feel the few curls around her temples poking out. A long, dangly necklace was around her neck and, as she took a seat on the sofa in the middle of the room, she played with the thinly sliced geode that dangled at the end of her chain. Something plain and ordinary hiding such beauty inside it was something she could relate to. Most books were like that. It was sometimes how she saw herself - or what she told herself when she started getting down.

Her fingers slipped around the necklace over and over. The geode sliding back and forth as she started getting antsy. But, before she could turn around to go and look out the window, Mrs. Malfoy came waltzing through the entryway.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” A smile stretched over her pale skin and her bright eyes glimmered warmly at Hermione. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Hermione stood quickly and took in the older woman before her. Her wizarding robes were a pale, periwinkle blue made of what looked like some sort of soft material that swished with her every step. Her hair was pulled back from her face but her fringe fell over her forehead. Her dark hair was slowly turning whiter and whiter with each passing year it seemed.

“Thank you for inviting me. I apologize for not reaching out sooner,” Hermione wrung her hands behind her back as she shifted on her feet.

“Oh please,” Mrs Malfoy waved a hand toward the sofa as she took a seat. “This Marriage Law has really caused quite a stir, I can only imagine how busy your life has been.” Mrs. Malfoy patted the sofa. “Please take a seat, Miss Granger. I promise I mean you no ill will.”

Hermione sat down, letting her hands drop down to her sides. “I must admit that I’m a little… cautious about this meeting. Last time I saw you in this house I was a prisoner and you were on the Dark Lord’s side of the war.” She lifted her eyes to meet the frown of her future mother-in-law. Hermione didn’t drop her stare as she watched the regal woman before her seem to search for something.

“Miss Granger.” She dropped her shoulders as she let out a slow breath. “I cannot erase the past. I cannot give you excuses, but I can tell you that if, and when, you choose to have a child you will learn there is no greater force on this world than the love of a mother and child. With that being said, I would do it all over again if it meant protecting my son in the only way possible at the time.”

Hermione tilted her head as she ingested the woman’s words. A moment passed between the two of them before Hermione nodded. “I respect that.”

“I thought you might,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled slightly. “I do regret what my sister did to you and there is nothing I can do to make up for that, but I still apologize for what happened. I only hope that we can move past that.”

“I think we can.” Hermione smiled back. “I’ve worked really hard to put that behind me.”

“Well,” Mrs. Malfoy snapped her fingers. “Then let us be glad we have got the hard part out of the way and discuss your future nuptials with my son.”

Her house elf came walking in with a tea tray and set it on the coffee table before them.

“How do you like your tea, Miss Granger?” Mrs. Malfoy asked as she lifted the pot and started pouring into two little tea cups.

“Two sugars and a splash of milk,” she answered.

As Mrs. Malfoy prepared their tea - two sugars and a splash of milk for Hermione and milk with a spoonful of honey for herself - she started asking about the upcoming nuptials.

“So, what size wedding are you looking to have? Do I need to prepare the manor? Is there anything specific you may want for your bouquet? Have you already -“

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione interrupted as she took the cup from her. “I thought Draco would have mentioned this, and I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we decided not to have a wedding.”

“Oh.”

“You see it’s never been a dream of mine, and this is awkward enough as it is. It’s going to be even harder for Draco and myself once our marriage becomes public knowledge, so we want to keep things simple.” She took a sip of her tea before setting it down. Turning slightly, she faced the woman before her. “I truly don’t mean to make you upset and I hope you will accept that this is what we want.”

Mrs Malfoy could only nod as she sipped from her own cup. A terse silence fell upon them as they drank and let their thoughts flounder about. 

“I understand, Miss Granger.” Mrs. Malfoy said eventually. Hermione glanced at her. “I’m sure that this is all so very strange to you.” She set her cup down. “I can only imagine what your parents are thinking… Have you told them?”

Hermione hesitated as she thought about how to answer her future Mother In Law. A lie would be simple, whereas the truth would open an already bleeding wound. 

“My parents... They’re no longer in my life,” a vague truth spilled from her lips and, thankfully, Mrs. Malfoy didn’t push any further.

“I am sorry to hear that.” She took another sip of tea. “Well, Miss Granger, I do hope we can get to know one another during this time. I hear you are quite a studious person, and your knowledge of Arithmancy, Potions, Charms, even your familiarity with magical devices is unquestionable.”

Hermione coughed as she swallowed wrong. Putting a hand to her throat, she turned startled eyes over to her. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“Draco, of course.” A proud smile lit up the matron’s features.

“Oh, well, I’m just a bookworm is all.”

“Do not sell yourself short, Miss Granger. I spent Draco’s school years listening to him prattle on about some girl in his classes who could outdo him in almost every subject.” She laughed at the small horror on Hermione’s face. “Oh don’t worry, it helped him to study harder so I must thank you for helping him to find a passion in Potions because of it. You see, I’m quite a potion brewer myself - though nowhere near Draco’s level anymore.”

“Draco has always been rather well versed in potions.” Hermione chuckled. “He’s very talented. You should be proud.”

“Oh, my dear. I am. I definitely am.”

It didn’t take much longer before Hermione began her journey home. It was well after dark and she had been surprised at how much time she had spent in Malfoy Manor. The echoes of laughter had been pleasantly quiet during her time with Mrs. Malfoy in her sitting room. She wrapped her coat tightly around her as she made her way back down the drive toward the iron gate. As the wind pushed against her, she let her gaze drift to her feet as she walked. When she glanced up again, she found herself much closer than she could recall having walked.

Hermione Apparated home once outside the gates and found Daisy in the kitchen, chatting happily to Draco who was seated at the kitchen counter. They both turned to her as she walked inside.

“Oh Miss! Perfect! Dinner be done!”

“Oh, thank you so much, Daisy. I’m starving.” Hermione beamed as she took a seat next to Draco. He slid her a glass of wine as she settled in her bar stool.

“Did you have a pleasant afternoon?” He asked, taking a sip from his own glass.

“Mm, yes.” She set her cup down and spun in her stool, settling a dark glare on him.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell your mother that we weren’t having a wedding?”

Draco paused. She watched as he seemed to go back through a file of his memories and knew when he found them lacking when he winced. “It may have slipped my mind,” he admitted as he shrugged.

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. “Men.”

“Honestly, it did. There’s been a lot happening so quickly that I forgot after our talk to go over and let her know.” 

Draco looked out the corner of his eyes down to her. Even sitting in bar stools she was half a foot shorter than him. He took notice of her Muggle attire, and the extra effort she seemed to have put into her appearance. She even applied a little more makeup than usual.He couldn't help the tug at the corner of his mouth as he imagined his mother’s facial expression when she had caught sight of Hermione’s clothing for their tea date.

“That’s only half true.” Daisy came over and set a place for the two of them, letting them know that dinner would be ready in ten minutes. Both murmured a thank you. Hermione turned back toward Draco. “You still should have told your  _ mother, _ of all people!”

“Oh well.” He spun his wine glass around, watching the red liquid swirl in the glass sphere. “It’s done and over with now that you spilled the beans.”

“Ugh,” she huffed as she leaned back in her bar stool, rubbing the back of her aching neck. “I know your mother can’t be there because of house arrest, so I was thinking… would you want someone to take pictures, so you could show her?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

She shrugged. “Harry or Ron could do it, or someone from your side - if you’d prefer.” 

“I doubt either Nott or Zabini have any clue how to use a camera.” 

“I’ll have Harry do it then,” she grinned, trying to imagine either of the Slytherin classmates using a Muggle piece of technology.

The wedding came faster than she could have anticipated. Nerves were making her hands shake as she paced up and down the hallway, waiting for her  _ groom _ to make his appearance. She knew that she was early, a habit formed long ago. She was also very aware that she had nothing to be nervous about because this was all a hoax. It was in name only and three years wasn’t that long, she reminded herself.

“‘Mione, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” 

She spun around to see her two very best friends walk toward her. They both wore their Auror robes, dark and clean, and grinned as they walked up to her. She pulled them into her arms and whispered her thanks as they held on tightly.

Not many people would know that Draco Malfoy had experienced a lot of jealousy throughout his life, for a variety of reasons, and, as he walked down the hall and saw the Golden Trio engaged in a tight embrace, he couldn’t help the familiar feeling from surging through him again. He was marrying a woman he’d met at school, but hardly knew, in fact, he couldn’t recall ever having a bond with  _ anyone  _ like that. He watched as Hermione stepped back to give her friends a bit of a shaky smile and squeeze each of their hands. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could see the love and admiration shining in each of their eyes. 

As they seemed to separate and settle, he made his presence known as he walked forward with purposeful strides. 

“Oye, Malfoy.” Ron hollered as he caught sight of him. “About bloody time you showed up.”

Malfoy shrugged as his hands went to the pocket of his waist coat. “Had to make a pit stop.” His eyes darted to Harry’s. Out of Hermione’s eye sight, Harry gave him a thumbs up. Nerves twitched in his fingers as he stepped forward, taking a box out of his pocket and offering it to Hermione. Confusion wrinkled her brow as she took the small box and opened to see the contents inside.

“It’s tradition for there to be a ring,” he remarked as he stepped back watching her eyes flicker over the object. “But I didn’t want a ring from the Malfoy vault.” 

“So you bought a new ring?! Draco you didn’t -“ Her head whipped up, a stare holding him in place. 

The ring wasn’t just any ring. It was a salt and pepper diamond in a marquise cut, the band encrusted with tiny diamonds in a soft gold setting. He knew that the Malfoy rings, ostentatious and gaudy, would not do for his bride. Just as he knew that she wouldn’t want a big diamond, too traditional, so when he remembered this ring he knew this would do well. 

“I didn’t,” he interrupted. “Years ago my mother told me about a specific ring in the Black family vault.” He nodded toward Harry. “With Potter’s permission, I went and got it.” 

Hermione whirled on Harry but came to an abrupt halt. Draco watched as Harry’s eyes seemed to lock onto Hermione’s and they held their own silent conversation. Before he realized what she was doing, she whirled around and threw her arms around his middle. 

“Thank you,” she murmured as she leaned back. Draco could only nod, startled by the intimate contact.

“Fucking romantic bullshit,” Ron grumbled causing Hermione to elbow him in the spleen. 

“Ronald Billius Weasley, best behavior,” she reminded with a glare. 

He grumbled again as he rubbed at the spot. “Yeah, yeah.”

It wasn’t much longer before Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini made their dramatic appearance with their wizarding robes billowing behind them. Theo was just as tall as Draco with a stern expression to his face as he started forward. Zabini on the other hand was half a head shorter and sporting a tell tale grin on his face. The two were murmuring to one another as they made their approach. 

“Well, well,” Zabini smirked. “Who would have thought we’d be meeting like this, aye? Potter? Weasley?” He turned toward Hermione. “Is it Granger still, or do I start calling you Malfoy now?”

Draco rolled his eyes as Theo came to stand beside him. “Oh sod off, Zabini.”

Hermione couldn’t help the grin that pulled at her features as she watched the men around her interact. It was telling just how much Malfoy trusted the two of them by the way he seemed to relax as they came to be in his presence. Hermione could understand that, she knew that was how it was with Harry and Ron. 

Their names were called a few minutes later and it was a quick ceremony with an even quicker departure. Hermione thanked them for attending and took the camera from Harry as they departed. Hugging him tight, she whispered her thanks again which he nodded to, before pulling her back and yelling over her head at Ron who had been threatening Malfoy within an inch of his life.

“Leave Malfoy alone. Remember?” Harry tugged on his arm as they approached. “If anyone is going to scare him, it’s going to be Hermione.” 

Ron nodded and together the two of them headed back down the hall. As she gazed after them, she heard the three Slytherin’s start to say their goodbyes.

“Wait,” she interrupted as they turned to follow the Aurors. She stepped forward and offered her hand, a smile spread over her features. “Thank you both for coming and we’d like to invite you to dinner later this week with your potential or current wives or husbands.”

“Actually Granger, since I’m  _ technically _ an Italian citizen, I do not have to participate in the Marriage Law,” Blaise grinned. “But I’d still love to come over for dinner. Daisy is an amazing cook.”

Hermione laughed before turning toward Theo whose frown gentled as his gaze met her own. “I suppose we could come. I’ll have to check with her.”

“Who did you get paired with?” Draco asked, slightly startled to find out Theo was to be married since it hadn’t been mentioned before.

Theo must have caught on to his shock because he winced slightly. “I just got the letter a few days ago.” To Hermione, he answered, “I’m currently betrothed to Luna Lovegood.”

Hermione couldn’t hold in the little bounce of excitement that erupted out of her, or the soft exclamation of breath. “Oh, Luna! She’s a dear friend of ours! Oh gosh, that makes me so excited.” She paused as her eyes turned back to Theo, dark and stormy. Her smile dropped from her face as her hands came to rest on her hips. For her slight stature, Theo couldn’t help but feel as if she had grown ten feet as her voice lowered with dark intent. “She is an angel in human flesh and if you so much as think of being cruel to her because she’s a little... unorthodox, I will make it my personal mission to drag you into the pits of hell and disembowel you myself. I will invent a spell to haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life and if I find that you say one mean thing to her I will find a way to make your manhood,” a quick glance at his nether regions, “fall right off.” 

Draco looked down at his  _ wife, _ startled as the words came flying out of her mouth. His eyes, blown wide open, flickered to Theo who wore an expression much like his own, he was sure. Theo seemed to shrink under her gaze and fear shone in his eyes. If anyone could do all that she threatened in a span of a few weeks, it would be Hermione Malfoy, nee Granger.

Blaise on the other hand had burst out laughing on a bench outside the Ministry hall. His arm tucked around his middle as he tried to hide the chuckles threatening to burst from him 

“Oh my word, Granger - err, Malfoy - no that’s weird. Granger it is,” he tried to contain his laughter. His hands went to his ribs as he tried to contain his laughter. “I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by a woman yelling such terrible things before.”

“Zabini!” Draco and Theo shouted in tandem as they turned on him. 

He could only shrug. 

“I’m just saying,” he chuckled as he leaned back in his seat, a grin still displayed over his dark features. 

Hermione blushed as she realized that she had threatened one of Draco’s best friends in front of him. Biting her lip, she took a step back but she didn’t apologize. Theo turned back to her and gave her a slight nod, an understanding passing between the two of them. He then grabbed Zabini and dragged him back out of the Ministry hall.

Turning back to Draco, she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted when he held up a hand.

“Don’t apologize,” he said as he took her hand and glanced at the peppered diamond ring on her finger. “I think you’ve just shocked Theo Nott and that is an accomplishment. My admiration for you has just risen quite a few levels.” Hermione blushed again. He smirked as he watched the red creep up over her cheeks. “My, my - Granger, embarrassed twice in one day? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Oh sod off Malfoy,” she pushed him away, grumbling as they made their way out of the Ministry hall down to the Floo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter Seven -**

Their marriage announcement arrived in the post the following day and the letters that swarmed in from various people didn’t take much longer. Draco warned Hermione that it would be best if neither of them opened any letters addressed to them for the next few days until diagnostic spells could be run on them. Hermione hesitated until he pointed out that there were still Dark wizards in hiding that had yet to be caught, as well as pure-blood wizards who would not like a pure-blood to, what they would call, sully the blood with a Muggle-born. Draco had been adamant that he did not still feel the same, but wanted to caution her to the thoughts that may still linger in society. He also pointed out that he would be doing the same as there would be many, many witches and wizards out there who would not like their Golden Girl to be tainted by an ex Death Eater. She had tried to argue that he was not a Death Eater, but he had waved her off. 

“I was - just not a very good one.” His attempt at a joke, but she failed to see the humor.

It took a few days before the letters let up, and by some luck, they were able to avoid being cursed or poisoned or anything similar. Hermione had gotten sick of the nasty verbiage spewing at them, so she had resorted Daisy to filter through them so she could send out thank you letters as she saw fit. Her mother’s good manners seeping out as Draco repeatedly told her that she didn’t have to do that. 

* * *

Hermione had sent out letters a few days later to invite a few of their friends over for dinner. Thankfully, she was able to push it off to the following week due to other events happening and giving her a little time to get used to the feeling in the pit of her gut. She was no longer Hermione Granger. She was Hermione  _ Malfoy _ . People at work had started calling her that and it left a strange aftertaste. She wouldn’t classify it as “butterflies” or a “sinking” feeling, but it was there. It was odd. Part of her wanted to reach out to Ron and Harry to discuss it, but she knew their own lives were dramatic and busy with their own ordeals happening. Ron’s wedding was set for next month and Harry was still wading through the waters of marriage himself, learning his own new wife. A wife who wanted nothing to do with him it seemed. Her heart ached for Harry, but she knew she could no more fix his own marriage than the sham that was her’s and Draco’s.

While she at least  _ knew _ Draco, she wouldn’t call that better. It was almost as if she was having to learn a whole new person while feeling as if the other shoe would drop at any moment, and the old Draco would peek out at her. Part of her tensed every time he came home from his work angry. She could see the dark glimmer in those slate eyes, but as soon as he caught sight of her, he would taper it down and that blank face would take over. Part of her hated that, but the other part that worried about his past appreciated the reprieve. 

* * *

The Friday before their dinner party, Hermione found herself home early from work. Work that she still felt frustrated at, where she accomplished nothing, and felt as if she was jumping through hoops just to get a meeting with a  _ secretary _ . Where she was told, point blank, to let go of her attempt to change the name of their department and that they would not entertain the idea any longer. Frustration had licked at her heels as she made her way home from the Ministry. 

As she trudged her way into the kitchen, she dropped her bag and coat on an empty stool and found herself leaning into the fridge. Nothing called to her and everything she wanted was unhealthy, but the longing to binge a good movie with terrible food was welcoming her like a siren’s call.

“Miss?” She leaned back to peer down, away from the fridge door, at the little house elf. “Do you needs some help? Can I makes you something?”

Hermione shut the door with a quiet thud and leaned her forehead against the cool metal. “I just want ice cream with cookie dough and some chips, but you’re such an immaculate cook that I don't want to hurt your feelings,” she admitted letting the whine in her voice drop down to a whisper as the guilt squeezed at her. 

She heard Daisy chuckle but when she turned her head to peek a look, she was gone. Sighing heavily, she dragged herself upstairs to her bedroom where she changed into a baggy t-shirt with a big band logo faded from use and a pair of yoga shorts. Grabbing a blanket from the end of her bed, she trailed it behind her as she went back down the stairs into the living room where her Muggle television called to her. Next to the sofa was a bag of crisps, a tub of ice cream and a spoon sitting on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, Daisy,” she shouted so wherever the little house elf was would be able to hear her. Somewhere down the hall she heard a murmur of what she thought was a ‘you’re welcome’. Taking a seat on the sofa and tucking the blanket over one of her legs and under the other, she grabbed the remote and turned on a humorous eighties movie,  _ ‘Three Men and a Baby’. _

That was where Draco found her by the time he arrived home. He’d seen her bag and coat settled on a bar stool, uncommon for her, as he too set his case on the next seat. Furrowing his brow, he looked around only to be startled by the trail of laughter that came floating from the sofa. As he turned to look at her, he was startled to see the unkempt woman laughing in her pajamas. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realized he was a bit later than usual, but not long enough for her to be lounged out on the sofa in such a manner. 

Neck deep in the movie, she hadn’t even realized he was home. He took that moment to watch his  _ wife _ \- someone usually so kept together, neat. Her hair, the one thing that was always wild and undone, was thrown into some sort of bun atop her head and her face was clear of any trace of makeup. Her attire was lazy and casual, but the shorts had him pausing to venture down the long leg that was exposed. Just as he was about to interrupt and announce his presence, something moved from out of her short line and trailed down to her thigh. It paused, giving Draco a moment to survey it. His brows furrowed as he stepped closer for a better look. It was a rabbit with antlers atop its head and it was sitting there staring at him.

“What in the bloody hell is that thing on your leg?” He nearly shouted as it seemed to dismiss him and move back under her shorts. She jumped in her place and turned to face him. Startled, it took her a few moments to catch on to his question. Glancing down at her leg, she seemed to remember what he was asking.

“Oh, it’s a jackalope.”

“A… jackalope?” He repeated, unsure of what she was talking about. His face must have expressed his confusion because she stood and placed both her hands on her hips, glaring up at him.

“If magic exists, why can’t a bunny with antlers exist, hmm?” She questioned, letting her left brow raise up in defiance. He had no words. None. She was right, again.

So instead he stepped forward and took a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. He undid the buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up to rest below his elbows. He felt her gaze flicker over to him in the process but chose to ignore it. “I wouldn’t have guessed the Golden Girl,” he glanced over at her and saw the sneer on her face, “would have a tattoo.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she grimaced as she turned back to the television. The scene before her had her smiling, but she settled it as glanced over at him. “Want the truth or do you want the answer I give to everyone else? Including Ron.”

“But not Harry?” She shook her head. “The truth.”

She leaned her head against the back of the sofa and laughed. “I got it as my own sort of rebellion.” She turned and looked up at him. “That’s the answer I give everyone.” 

“The real answer?”

“I got it as a memento to my parents. We had a bucket list that we were going to accomplish after I was done with Hogwarts. Our hoorah together meant that I survived the magical world as a Muggle-born.” He felt a pang in his chest but remained stoic as he listened. “Harry knows about the list, but Ron only knows a bit. He doesn’t quite understand because he’s not an orphan.” She turned back to the television. “He tries, bless his heart, but he’ll never quite understand what it means to be alone without a family in this world. That's why I told Harry. He understands.”

“You just told me, and technically, I’m not alone. I have my mother.” Draco challenged as he took off his shoes. 

Hermione remained quiet for a moment. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she thought about what he said. But instead of answering, she grabbed the remote and shushed him. “This is my favorite part.” 

It wasn’t long before Draco was getting sucked into the movie too and letting out little chuckles. Hermione couldn’t help but grin every time she heard it, as if she had won some small battle. Victory was ever so sweet when he became adamant about how there better be a happy ending when a particular scene popped up or he threatened that he was never watching a Muggle film again. She had a hard time hiding her smile as she made him turn back toward the television. Sneaking a crisp in her mouth as a way to hide the smile fighting its way out. 

As the credits rolled, Draco stood and stretched his arms above his head. Hermione stood from her seat and began to clear all the items she had out and about around her. Mostly to keep herself occupied and not sneak peaks at his abdomen as his shirt rose with him. The bag of crisps long gone went into the bin, and the half tub of ice cream went back in the freezer. The blanket was quickly folded and placed on the back of the sofa and the remotes found their usual space on the coffee table.

“You realize you don’t have to clean, right?” He commented as he followed her into the kitchen where Daisy had some sort of dish stashed in the oven currently cooking.

Hermione could only shrug as she pulled out a glass and filled it with water from the sink. “Old habits die hard,” she remarked.

He didn’t respond as he took a spot opposite of her, leaning against the counter. “Want to talk about it?” 

“About….?” 

“Why you’re drowning yourself in salt and sweets.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared across the kitchen at her. He watched her fidget under his gaze. That lip going between her teeth again and her eyes looking at him, but not quite seeing him, as her brain started spinning. 

“I hate my job,” she ended up murmuring, guilt licking at her every word as she forced them out between her teeth. Her eyes were glued to the floor as she shuffled on her feet. “They don’t listen to anything I’m saying, I get moved around like some chess piece with no destination, and I truly thought I could make some changes.” She turned to face the sink, moving her expression out of his eyesight. He watched as her hands held on to the edge of the counter in a white knuckle grip. “Instead, I'm sitting at the same desk every day shuffling papers.”

“Then leave.” It was that simple. But she must not have agreed because he watched her shoulders stiffen and her neck fall lower. “You’re brilliant, and any other department would  _ die, _ possibly  _ kill _ , to have you in their ranks.” She didn’t move a muscle. His focus narrowed as he watched her. “Or… is it something else that stops you?”

“I’ve never  _ failed _ at anything before,” her voice came out low and miserable as she spoke those words to him.

“You can’t fail at something that’s never begun,” he coaxed as he slid his arms back down, pushing off the counter as the oven beeped. 

With a flick of his wand, he levitated the dish to the center of the counter, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses before taking a seat. Hermione followed him, sitting to his left, and accepted the offered glass.

“I know you already enjoy potion making and that you’re getting your Mastery in it, but what made you decide you wanted to open your own shop?”

He started cutting into the food, a spaghetti bake of some kind, and dished them both up a plate. Sliding it over to her, he offered a half smile. “Someone we went to school with made me realise that things aren’t always available to those who need it the most, and I guess I want to give something back. ” He laughed darkly. “Plus, maybe I’m also atoning for my own sins.” A shrug. 

“Must have been one hell of a lasting impression,” she remarked digging into her own dish. A soft hum of appreciation slipped out of her. “Daisy is so amazing. Where does she find all these recipes?”

“My mother,” he remarked. “She wrote a few recipes down for me and Daisy has been making them ever since.” A noncommittal sigh came out, and then the two of them were left in silence as they finished their meals. 

As Hermione bid Draco a good night, he watched as she drifted down the hall and up the stairs. He could hear a quiet hum as her fingers dragged across the wall the whole way. He didn’t recognize the tune but appreciated the mellowness. As he heard her door shut, he leaned against the sofa and rubbed his eye socket. Stress leaching into his every pore and making all his muscles ache. 

“Mister Draco?” He turned his bleary eyes to stare at Daisy. 

“Yes, Daisy? What is it?” He wondered as he watched her fidget a few feet from him. 

“There’s a letter, sir.” He didn’t move as she shuffled on her feet. Tiredness raking through him, he waited. “From a Miss Astoria Greengrass.” A sigh escaped him. 

“Burn it.” 

“Of course, sir.” One snap of her fingers and he watched the flames encase the envelope. 

  
  


* * *

Hermione went to the Floo to greet the newcomers. As she turned the corner to see a familiar head of hair, she raced forward and gave Harry a hug. He squeezed her tightly, giving a low chuckle.

“Hermione, this is Daphne, my wife.” He turned to the woman next to him. “Daphne, this is one of my very best friends, Hermione Granger.” He paused and turned back to glance at her. “Or is it Malfoy now?

“Malfoy,” she smiled, turning to the blonde next to him. “It’s lovely to meet you, Daphne.” She offered a hand which was accepted quickly.

“Oh gosh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you - I mean outside of school, Miss Granger -err, Mrs. Malfoy.” She grimaced as she tucked a piece of her long blonde hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I know Draco’s mother personally, so this is going to take some getting used to.”

Hermione waved her off. “Please, call me Hermione. It’ll make both of us more comfortable.” Hermione stepped back and pointed toward the kitchen. “Draco’s in there serving drinks now with Theo, Luna and Blaise.” 

Harry paused mid step, giving her a quizzical look. “Luna?”

“She’s been matched with Theo Nott.” Hermione caught the stern brow rising. “Don’t worry, I’ve threatened him within an inch of his life. He won’t misstep.” Grinning she shooed them out as she waited for the last couple to arrive. Thankfully it didn’t take long.

A mop of red hair popped through the Floo and then another familiar face followed. 

“Hermione!” 

Ron winced as his  fiancé yelled jubilantly. Tarnished brown hair and hazel eyes flashed before Hermione was pulled into a hug. She turned her own eyes toward Rons and pleaded nonverbally.

“Um, Lavender,” Ron pulled her arms from Hermione’s person and steered Lavender away. “Let’s go greet Harry and Daphne.” 

Hermione trailed behind them watching Harry attempting to hide his chuckle, while Malfoy watched with unreadable eyes. As she walked into the dining room she found Draco leaning against a chair mid-conversation with Daphne and Blaise while Harry was standing next to Luna and Theo. Ron and Lavender followed to the side of the room with Harry, giving Hermione time to take in the new woman involved with Harry. 

Daphne Potter nee Greengrassr was gorgeous. Her hair was a beautiful blonde, light and golden, with blue eyes that shone brightly with mirth at something Blaise was saying. Although she was in a simple black dress, short sleeved with a plain tie around her waist, she seemed to outshine everyone in the room. Her smile was startling but gentle with perfect teeth. When she glanced back at Harry she noticed him watching her from across the room. His eyes strayed from his own conversation to glance at her as she moved. 

Hermione felt her heart break a little as she watched Harry watch his wife, whose eyes never drifted once from Blaise or Draco. Feeling the frown pulling at her lips, she gently shook herself and started toward Harry when Luna came waltzing up. 

“Hermione,” Luna wrapped delicate arms around Hermione’s frame. Her white blonde hair down, flowing, gently tickling Hermione’s face. “It’s so good to see you.”

Hermione felt a real smile take over her face as she wrapped her own arms back. “Oh, Luna, I’m so happy to see you.” Pulling back, she took her hands in her own. “How are you holding up?”

Luna tilted her head and glanced around. “I’m doing well. I just returned from Africa with daddy.”

“Oh! What were you looking for there?”

“Exploding Snabberwitches.”

“Were you able to locate them?” She wondered as they both took a seat at the table. 

“Oh yes,” Luna started telling the story about their trek across the continent. As she told her tale, her hands flying around in excitement, Harry and Theo found their way to sit at the table to listen to the story as well. Theo took the spot next to her with his arm on the back of her chair. Harry took a seat next to Hermione, leaning forward to hear Luna, and she shared a smile with him.

* * *

It didn’t take long before Daisy announced that dinner was ready and the rest of the dinner party soon joined them at the table.

“Potter,” Blaise greeted with a debonair smile. “I believe you’re in my seat.” He pointed to Hermione. “I was promised that I could sit beside the beautiful host this evening.”

“Oh shove it, Zabini,” Theo grumbled as he and Luna scooted down for Ron and Lavender to sit on Hermione’s left. Lavender, thankfully, sat between Ron and Luna, rather than next to her. 

Malfoy took the opposite head of the table with Theo to his left. “Blaise, leave Potter alone and suffer through dinner next to me.” Hermione flashed him a thankful smile before turning back to Harry as Daphne took a seat next to him.

“Daphne,” Hermione inquired. “I believe you were in our year, yes? And you have a sister?”

“Yes.” She offered a polite smile around a sip of wine. “My sister, Astoria” - her eyes flickered to Draco and back. Almost unseen, but Hermione watched with curious eyes - “is two years younger than me.”

“Mmm,” she remarked noncommittally as she shared a look with Harry who glanced over at Ron.

“Do you three always do that?” Daphne asked, leaning back in her seat. Hermione tilted her head to the side as her brow furrowed. Daphne laughed gently. “You don’t even realize it.” She pointed to Harry, then her, and then Ron. “Communicate without ever voicing the words.”

“Um, I guess I hadn’t realized we did…” Harry trailed off.

Hermione could only shrug. “It came in handy on the run.” For some reason Hermione felt like she was put in a defensive position as Daphne started to point out this little thing that happened between them. 

Harry jumped in, “Or when you’re about to get pulled into Gringotts bank and have to ride a dragon out.” 

Ron slapped his hand on the table letting out a laugh. “Oye, Hermione got us into trouble with that one for sure!” Ron kept chuckling behind his fist. “For someone who hates flying, she leapt on that dragon mighty fast.” Harry grinned as Hermione tried to sink lower in her seat, a blush rising over her cheeks.

“Granger,” Blaise called from the other side of the table with a shit-eating grin on his face. “If you weren’t already married, I’d be getting down on one knee right now. That’s bloody brilliant.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled but her eyes didn’t go to Blaise, instead trailing over to her husband who was watching her from behind a glass of wine. As he caught her looking, he tipped his head and smirked at her.

* * *

The rest of dinner passed quickly as the table shared different stories - some that they had heard, some that no one knew about, and others just told for humor. Like the time Mad Eye Moody had changed Draco into a ferret, but that was in the past and Draco seemed to take it with good humor now. Hermione found herself watching him almost as much as she was watching Daphne and Harry’s interactions or, rather, lack thereof. 

Hermione helped Draco clear up the table after dinner while the others headed into the front room for a drink before turning out. Standing next to him as they stacked the dishes, she found herself asking, “Is Daphne a good person?” 

Draco paused in washing a plate to glance at her from the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” was all he said before turning back to his task. Hermione fiddled with a knife as she dried it off, her gaze trailing back toward the front room. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she worried.

“You’re going to wear a hole in your lip.” She let it go but didn’t stop worrying. “Hermione.” Turning she found Draco staring directly at her. “Daphne is as nice as they come and Potter’s damn lucky that he got her rather than her sister.”

“Astoria’s that bad?”

“Yes.” Draco glanced at the guests across the house. “Daphne is cool and standoffish when she doesn’t know someone well, so imagine how she may be in a forced marriage with the boy wonder.” Draco smirked. “She hates being in the limelight and here she is with the Daily Prophet’s favorite star.”

“Harry mentioned that.” She hung her head as she turned around. “I just worry that Harry won’t get the happiness he deserves.” Folding the towel, she set it to the side and went around to the front room, Draco trailing after her. His eyes flickered to see several sets on him. Pulling out the famous Malfoy smirk, he stood straighter and went to schmooze.

As she hugged Harry goodbye, Daphne saying her goodbyes to Draco, she held him tight. “I love you.”

Harry pulled back with a grin. His hand going to the top of her head and mussing it up. “Love you too, sis.” He offered his arm to his wife who came up to his side. With more grace than Hermione thought possible, she ignored the arm and offered a hand to Hermione.

“Thank you so much for having us for dinner, Hermione. We must do it again.” She shook Hermione’s hand and waltzed her way to the Floo with Harry not far behind. 

“Why can’t she just love Harry?” 

“Because not everyone sees what you see,” Draco remarked from his seat on the couch. Hermione grumbled but couldn’t argue with that logic. 

“Not everyone thinks the stars and moon shine out of Boy Wonder’s eyes, Granger.” 

Hermione took a seat on the sofa pulling her legs up and under her, thankful her dress was long enough to still cover her legs. “I don’t think the stars and moon shine out of Harry’s eyes, Draco,” she said with enough tone to reveal her tiredness. “I do think someone who hasn’t been given the love  _ any one person _ deserves for most of his life deserves a little bit of happiness.” 

“You can’t make that happen.”

“I know!” She threw her hands up. “I just wish I could do it all. I mean, if Daphne is as nice as you say she is, she could at least try. She hardly even looks at Harry!”

“Granger,” Draco drawled. “I do not want to meddle in anyone’s affairs, let alone Daphne Potter nee Greengrass, or Harry Potter. Let them be grown adults and figure it out themselves.”

“Fine,” she sighed as she closed her eyes. “But if she’s mean to Harry, I get first dibs.” 

Draco could only roll his eyes as he finished his Firewhiskey. “Fiesty little witch,” he remarked from his end of the sofa. Thankful for the distance as she threw an arm out to hit his shoulder only to hit the back of the sofa instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter Eight -**

Finally, a week later, Hermione was able to meet Harry for lunch. Together they found their favorite sandwich shop in Muggle London, sitting across the booth from one another. She could not quite express the release of tension as she sat in his presence. No feeling that they had to fill the space with words as if the silence was uncomfortable. It helped knowing that he would be able to understand what she was saying without having to explain over and over again. Harry, he was home. He was family. And lately she missed her family: Harry, Ron, her parents. 

“Alright, out with it,” Harry remarked as he finished off his sandwich. Wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, he leaned back in the booth leveling his stare on her.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked weakly, tearing at the edge of a napkin situated next to her plate. Her eyes purposely not meeting his as she picked more pieces to fall into the pile she had already begun.

“You’ve been fidgety ever since I came to pick you up at your office.” Leaning forward, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Clearing his throat to get her attention, he forced her to look at him. “Now tell me.”

She sighed heavily pushing the napkin out of reach to avoid the temptation. “I don’t know what to say to be honest.”

“Hermione, just get it out and we’ll figure it out from there.” Harry pushed.

“Fine.” She leaned back in her own side of the booth and crossed her legs. Her hands trailing to the edge of the table. “I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve had it since I got married to Draco and it won’t leave. Stop it, Harry James Potter.” She pointed a finger at him, shaking it in a no-no-no wave as she watched his grin start to spread. “It’s not butterflies. But it’s not dread. It’s just… a pit.”

Harry tried to cover his smile with his hand. “Do - ” he paused, “do you perhaps actually like him?” 

“I think he’s definitely moved past being our enemy.”

“I can agree with that.” Nodding as he spoke, Harry could only agree. “He’s most certainly not the boy we went to school with. But that’s not an answer.” 

“I don’t know Harry, I just… don’t know.” 

“That’s okay,” he smiled as he reassured her. “You have time to figure all of that out.” 

Hermione nodded, then remembered her previous conversation with Draco a week before in regards to her job. She hadn’t quite trusted his judgement at that moment in time, but perhaps she had been hasty. “He thinks my talents are wasted at Care and Regulation.”

Harry shrugged. “He’d be right. I’ve offered to throw my weight around to help you get somewhere but you turn me down every time. And you’ve still been able to get nowhere because that department doesn’t realize what a gem they have in their midst.” 

She allowed that to sink in as she realized that if Harry, who wasn’t the most observant human she knew, could notice this as well as her now husband, then there had to be truth to their words. Guilt seeped into her, bringing about a pain in her eye sockets. Rubbing her temples, she spoke out, changing the subject hoping it would keep the headache at bay, while she tried to figure out a way to deal with the information presented before her. Draco was right. That was a tough pill to swallow.

“How are things with Daphne?” She inquired, turning her gaze to glance out the window.

Harry smiled gently. “Much better after your dinner.”

“What do you mean?” Startled, she whipped her head around to stare at him. Worry etched at her features. 

Harry winced. “Well, I guess our hug didn’t exactly scream brother and sister, so Daphne thought there was a history. You know the rumors that went around while we were on the run…” He trailed off. She knew exactly which rumors they were, and how they had affected their lives ever since. “Well, she assumed there was truth to those rumors. She also felt your eyes surveying her all night.” A pointed look. One which she chose to ignore. “But then she heard our goodbyes and realized that it was all a huge misunderstanding. Especially after a spectacular blow up fight at the house about it.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry Harry. I didn’t mean to cause any upset!” Hermione apologized. Her lips turned down as she watched a grin spread over the raven haired boy’s features.

“Oh, on the contrary. It helped so many obstacles I was facing. We’re fine.”

“So you guys are getting along?”

“Yes, Hermione,” Harry grinned. “We’re definitely getting along.” He wiggled his eyebrows, causing Hermione to throw one of the stray chips off her plate at him. “We even go on weekly dates now. Usually out of Wizarding London too.”

Hermione felt a weight lift off her chest as she realized the smile on Harry’s face was genuine and not a plastered on smile that he used in social outings when photographs may be taken. He was happy.  _ Someone _ was making him happy. Relief released her shoulders from the tense hold they had been in. 

With a soft smile, she reached her hand out for his and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m so glad for you, Harry. Truly.”

“Thanks, ‘Mione,” he said, returning the gesture.

* * *

Hermione returned home later that evening. She found the house quiet, which was only surprising for the fact that Daisy wasn’t cooking, but that presented a perfect opportunity for herself. She hurried to her bedroom for a quick change of clothes. A plan formulating in her brain as she was moved around the room in a hurry, trying to locate a pair of jeans and tee. Thankfully she was able to locate both, neatly tucked back in her closet. Leaving herself barefoot, she made her way back to the kitchen. 

Daisy found her standing in the center of the room staring at the fridge. One arm crossed over her abdomen while the other had its hand under her chin. A contemplative look over her face.

“Miss?” 

Hermione whirled around, stumbling over her own feet in the process and let out a soft yelp of terror. Gripping the closest counter, she tried to catch her breath. “Oh gosh, Daisy! I didn’t realize you were home!”

Daisy chuckled. “Is there something you needs Miss?”

“Um, I was thinking about making dinner for Draco.” She turned back to the fridge. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the hunk of metal. “But I fear I’m not the greatest cook and I don’t have a clue what to make.”

“Oooo,” Daisy pulled a few items from the cabinet. “Make him s’getti.”

“Is it hard?” Hermione turned to watch the little house elf begin to pull items from some cupboards and place them next to the stove. But as more items were piled out, the terror started to sink in. 

“Easy, peasy.” She rattled off the instructions, pointing at each item as she spoke. Hermione nodded, following along and feeling less than confident this wouldn’t be  _ too _ hard. “Just holler if you needs me.” A snap and she was gone.

Hermione quickly set about making dinner with the instructions at the forefront of her mind. Turning the stove on, she placed the giant pot on the burner and began getting all the ingredients together. The humming began not long after; a melody only found in her head from a lifetime ago. As she got her hands on the items herself she felt the courage start to build and she repeated mentally to herself that she could do this. She was a witch and she brewed potions all the time. Dinner couldn’t be that much different, right?

* * *

Draco showed up less than an hour later to more noise than he was accustomed to when walking into his home. Slowly, with caution, and his wand in his hand, he started for the kitchen to Hermione hissing loudly over the sink, some sort of red substance splattered down her front, and what looked like a dinner on the counter.

“What are you doing?”

A yelp escaped from her as she let go of the dish she was holding and whirled around for a second time that evening. The dish rang loudly from the echo in the sink as it spun on its edge. Her eyes wide and her hands at her chest, she tried to catch her breath. “Draco, you’re home -” she glanced at the clock and frowned as she dried her hands on her sweatshirt. “On time… I guess I lost track...” She straightened her posture and pointed to the plates at their seat. “I made you dinner.”

“Thank you?” He replied but his tone showed his confusion as he posed it as a question. He walked around the counter to set his case down.

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip as she wrung her hands, shuffling on her feet. “Because I owe you an apology.” Both eyebrows rose half way up his forehead as he looked up at her from his seat at the counter. Dropping her hands she started pacing. “I didn’t really take you seriously the other day when you were talking with me about work and how I was undervalued. I honestly thought you were just trying to fluff me up.” She shook her head, trying to keep the shake out of her voice even though she felt the nerves tingling under her skin. “Anyway, I talked to Harry and he said the same thing and I realized that’s not fair to you. So,” she stopped on the opposite side of the counter to look him in the eye, “I’m sorry and this is an I’m sorry dinner.”

“A what?”

“My mum... she’d make dinners, but anytime dad did something to mess up, he’d cook ‘I’m sorry’ dinners.” Hermione stripped out of her messy sweatshirt, leaving her in a loose, dark gray v-neck t-shirt. She took a seat next to him and waited. Under her gaze, he grabbed his utensil and took a bite of the, what he assumed was, spaghetti. He froze. A cold mush settling on his tongue.

She winced. “It’s bad isn’t it?” He wiped his mouth, spitting out the food in the process with as much couth as possible. 

“Please, please never cook again.” He made a face. “I finally found something Hermione Granger is not good at.”

“Malfoy,” she corrected with a half hearted grin.

“Look, Hermione, I appreciate the attempt, but in all honesty I’d prefer you didn’t poison me.” He stood up. “Daisy!” She appeared as soon as he finished saying her name. “It would seem that the kitchen is not a safe place for Hermione. Can you possibly pick up some take out for us?”

“Why, yes, yes.” She disappeared.

“I’m never living this down.” Hermione placed her head on her arms over the table and groaned. 

* * *

Hermione returned to work a few days later in better spirits, but still dejected about her progress since leaving Hogwarts. She had so many plans and it felt as if she had accomplished nothing. That hit an ache inside her bones. Taking a deep breath, she found herself at her desk shuffling through more papers that needed reviewing. Each law, each addendum started to blur before her very eyes. It was hard to keep a clear mind. So she shoved herself back, only to be startled when a letter came flying into her room. Not recognizing the script on the front, she turned it over and looked at the wax insignia. ‘ _ DofM _ ’, her first thought was that it was Draco of Malfoy which made her chuckle but she knew the Malfoy insignia. With a furrow in her brow, she quickly opened the document and let out a soft gasp as she read the contents of the letter.

_ Dear Mrs. Hermione Granger-Malfoy, _

_ Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ezra Bovin. I am the Head of the Department of Mysteries and I’d really love to have tea with you sometime this week. We are currently in search of a new employee and your name has been brought up several times by numerous members of the Ministry. _

_ I’d love the opportunity to get to know you and see if this position is something you may be interested in. Please let me know a good time that works best for you. _

_ Thank you. _

_ Ezra Bovin _

Hermione quickly jotted down her availability in the letter and sent it back with a flick of her wand before she could second guess herself. She fell back in her seat as the letter went through her door down the hall and she felt a rush of air leave her lungs as she seemed to lose mobility in her body, slumping down. Her eyes stared at her door, unseeing, as she tried to process just what happened. It had to be a dream - something made up - because what could the chances be this was truly happening when it had just been discussed with both Harry and Draco. 

* * *

Later that evening, she found herself wandering down from her bedroom to find Draco fidgeting with the television in the living room. Not quite close enough to hear the verbiage but enough to hear the blast of words slipping from his lips. 

“Need help?” 

He glanced over his shoulder with hooded eyes. “No. Yes.” He looked back at the television as Hermione walked around the sofa and took a seat. 

With a sly grin, she picked up the remote and pushed the power button. She let out a soft laugh as he spun on his heels to stare at her, exasperated.

“I just had to push a bloody button?” He growled making his way to the sofa. 

“What are you trying to watch?” 

“The sequel to that movie - about the three men and that baby.” 

She grinned in response to his request. Quickly, she quickly selected their movie for the screen and set back to watch.

It wasn’t very long into the movie, a scene about the three men traveling from America over to Europe, when Hermione felt an itch growing and growing as she sat next to him. Following her gut, she decided to just let out, “I got an invite to tea with the Head of the Department of Mysteries.” Slowly, gray cool eyes turned to look over from her. Picking his hand up, he mimicked pushing a button. It took a moment before she lifted the remote and pressed the pause button. 

“Are you going to go?”

“I think so.” She fidgeted under his gaze. Her fingers played with the edge of her shirt. “I mean I can’t say no.”

“You could.” She shot him a dark look to which he could only smirk.

“I’m going to go. I mean, they might not offer the job once they meet me.” She heard the scoff next to her. “What?”

“Granger,” He stood from his sofa. “I’d bet half my inheritance that there isn’t one department in the Ministry, and several companies in Wizarding London, who wouldn’t kill to get their hands on that brain of yours.” He walked into the kitchen. A moment later he was walking back with a glass of wine in each hand. Offering one to her, he took a seat. “Modest and self deprecating is not a good look,” he remarked as he pulled his right foot over his left knee. 

Hermione didn’t comment, biting her tongue to keep from lashing out. To occupy her tongue, she brought the glass of wine to her lips and sipped. “I hate to spoil this for you, Malfoy,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “It’s not easy being a Muggle-born and not understanding the ins and outs all the time. So yes, I am modest despite knowing that I graduated at the top of my class and my brain is rather large and full of information.” Huffing, she crossed her empty arm over her stomach and leaned further down in her seat. “I’m not a confident person sometimes.” 

“Well,” he smirked. “I’ll be confident enough for the both of us.” He tipped his glass toward her. “Let me be the dickish husband, and you can be the savior yet again.” 

Hermione tilted her head to the side as she listened to the tone seeping into his words. Taken back, she tried to decipher some of his words as she had grown unaccustomed to this surly attitude. Most nights, they’d share dinner in quiet and go their separate ways. On some occasions, they’d watch a movie together where Hermione would have to explain things and laughs would periodically be shared. So to see this change in his demeanor was something she found off putting. 

“Did something happen today?” She watched as he paused, only for a millisecond, bringing the glass to his lips. “I mean, you just seem… off?” she faltered, but her hopes that he missed it were quickly diminished with he let out a harsh chuckle.

“I’m fine, Granger.” He set his glass down on the table next to him. The glass settled heavily on the wood. His fingers traced the trim as he stared off into space. “We all have our demons we carry.” Pointing to the television, he spoke again. “Can we finish this so I can go to bed at a decent hour?” 

She waited a moment but eventually gave in to his request and pushed the play button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter Nine -**

Hermione sat in a little tea shop on the edge of Diagon Alley. She found a small corner to wait, tugging at her jacket as she waited for Mr. Burns’ arrival. Her hair was down, but she felt the stray curls tickling at her face. Eventually, with more than a little frustration, she used the hair tie that accompanied her wrist to pull her hair into a quick fishtail braid. Messy, but with the amount of curls she had, it did its job to keep most of her hair from tickling her face. 

Glancing around, she was thankful for the lack of people. Public places were sometimes hard when everyone knew her face. By some stroke of magic, or luck, she had arrived early enough at the destination noted in the letter to find a sense of quiet and calm. The waitress had taken her order with a friendly smile and then left her in peace. A necklace dangled from her neck down to her abdomen. From the end of the necklace laid a faux gem of rather large size. Using the pad of her fingers, she slid it over the raw edges using the texture to center her.

“Miss Granger?” 

From her mindless thinking, she woke to the voice. Standing before her was a rather tall, broad shouldered man. His pepper grey hair and shrewd blue eyes made him look distinguished and quite a specimen for his age. She stood and offered her hand. “Oh, Mr. Burns, I presume?” 

He nodded. Letting her hand down, he took a seat across from her. “Thank you, Miss Granger,” He coughed. “Sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. Well, thank you for meeting with me.” 

Hermione smiled hesitantly. “No, no, please call me Hermione.” She shook her head. “Thank you for inviting me to tea! Though, I must admit this is the strangest job interview I’ve ever attended.”

Mr. Burns leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly showing the crows feet at the end of his eyes. “I didn’t want anyone knowing that I was attempting to meet with you.” He grinned suddenly. “Can’t have competition. Hell, the damn Department of Care & Reg had their hooks in you from the get go that I didn’t even get a chance to chat with you some years ago after your graduation from Hogwarts.”

Startled, she sat back. “You were interested in me back then?”

He chuckled. “Everyone wanted you. We all knew that Harry Potter would join the Aurors and that Weasley boy would probably follow.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he too leaned back and seemed to assess her through those sharp eyes. “Us at the Department of Mysteries wanted you, specifically me, when I heard about your time in your third year with a time turner. Not many at that age would be trusted with such a powerful device. I also think with your knowledge of time turners we have the perfect project for you.” He dropped his arms as the waitress came back with Hermione’s drink and took his order. Hermione gripped the mug in her hands but didn’t make a move for a taste. Her eyes trained on the older gentleman before her. “I’m hoping you are interested in the position since you agreed to meet with me.” She nodded slowly. “Let me be quite frank with you, Mrs. Malfoy?” Another nod. Words not quite forming on her tongue as she listened. “I’ll do anything to get you in my department. Pay raise? Easy. Limitless vacation? I’ll work on it. Free reign, for the most part, on whatever project you want to work on? Done. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you. If I can’t get it for you, I'll find a way to get it for you.

“You’re intelligent, Hermione. You’re a quick thinker and you’re resilient. I think you’d be a great asset to my team.” He never took his stare off of her.

“But what if your expectations are so high that I can’t meet them?” Taking her hands from the mug, she lowered them into her lap. Under the table, she slipped her fingers against the lettering etched under her sleeve. As she watched the man before her, she traced the bumped shapes. 

“I’ve had,” he paused as he seemed to collect his thoughts, “six people come to me about this position and mention you. I doubt my expectation of you is too high. To be quite frank, I’ve heard tales of some of the things you did in school and to know a  _ child _ did all this, I’m even more excited to get you inside the department.” 

“What exactly would I be doing, per say?” She asked.

“Well - I’d like to put you in the time room at least for a while for a specific project I have in mind.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “But I have four other rooms you could work in. The Death Chamber, The Love Chamber, Space Chamber, the Hall of Prophecies, which you’re aware of, as well as the Brain room.” 

“And the time chamber.” She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “This is a lot of information to take in Mr. Burns.” She took a sip of her coffee then. “Do you mind if I take a day or two to mull it over.”

“But of course.” He smiled gently. As he took a stand from his seat, his tea untouched, he left a few coins on the table covering their now cold tea. “Let me know if you have any further questions though, yes?” 

Agreeing with a gentle nod, she watched as he moved his way around the tea tables and out the door that he had whirled in through. 

She returned home and immediately attempted to reach Harry via the Floo. 

Daphne answered, “Sorry, Hermione. He’s still working. I think he had training tonight and won’t be home until late. Do you want me to have him give you a call?”

Shaking her head, Hermione thanked her. She then tried Ron, but no answer there. Sighing heavily, she sat back on her heels and hung her head. As she rubbed her neck, she rose from her position on the floor and slunk her way toward the sofa. There she dropped face down and let out a frustrated scream into the cushion.

“Please refrain from harming my furniture. It took me quite a while to find these and I’m quite particular.” 

She rolled her head to look at Draco who stood before the Floo. “Fine,” she agreed and turned her face back into the sofa, but refrained from screaming that time. 

She listened to his footsteps move over into the kitchen where he was greeted by Daisy who was asking what he might like for dinner. She couldn’t hear his answer as they moved further into the kitchen. Grumbling to herself, she rolled over again, but instead to face the back of the sofa as she let her mind drift away. Before she realized it, her eyes were closed. The darkness embracing her with welcome arms and allowing her to slip off into dreamland.

* * *

By the time she woke, she found the quiet and a darkness encasing the room before her. A blanket was placed over her at some point that she had managed to curl into. Its warmth still encased her in it’s grasp. With a little grogginess, she managed to sit up and glance about but the dark and the blurry sleep vision did nothing. Blinking several times then pulling her hands out of the blanket, she pressed the heels of her palms into the socket of her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision. It worked and, when she opened them again, they were clear enough to notice the soft light coming from the kitchen. She found herself dragging toward the light to find a dinner situated on the counter. A dinner of spaghetti with two meatballs sitting on the top caused half a smile to slip through. A note sat next to it in a quick, neat script. All it read was, ‘EAT’. 

After finishing off the dinner that was laid out for her, she found herself walking up the stairs to her bedroom. Her wand lit up to lead the way. As she reached the top of the stairs she heard an angry voice speaking from Draco’s bedroom. Hesitantly, she tiptoed her way to his door and pressed herself close to the wood.

“- _ I told you no.”  _ A scrape of something against the floor. “ _ Leave me alone and stop trying to contact me. I mean it!” _ She leapt back as she heard his heavy footfalls head toward the door. Quickly, but as quietly as possible she found herself at her door just as he opened his own.

The light from his bedroom cast a dark shadow over his face so she wasn’t able to read his expression, but she forced a smile as she opened her door.

“Thanks for the dinner,” she spoke out. He didn’t speak but he also didn’t move from his spot in his doorway. Hesitantly, with an awkward wave, she moved herself out of his sight and into her room. Shutting the door with a quiet thud, she leaned her forehead against it as she felt a chill race down her spine. She held her breath while she waited to hear him move. By her mental count of seventeen, she finally heard his footsteps move down the hall.

With a release of breath, she pushed back from the door and stripped into her pajamas for the night - a simple, oversized, worn tee and a pair of soft cotton shorts - before crawling into her bed. Propping the pillow up higher, she grabbed her worn ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte. Peeling back the cover, worn and torn from years of use, she slipped her fingers in for the dog eared page of where she had left off earlier in the week. Soon she found herself sliding back into the land of ghosts and hidden secrets.

“Perhaps he’s hiding a Bertha in his closet,” she murmured to her fluffy companion who curled up beside the pillow beside her.

* * *

Two weeks later and Hermione found herself at the Department of Mysteries with a new pep in her step. Giving her resignation to the Department of Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures had gone as smoothly as possible. The Head of the Department had been shocked, but despite his blubbering and promises, she found herself excited to be joining a new place of work. So, as she stepped out of the lift to find Mr. Burns standing at the front desk with a smile to greet her she felt a new sense of relief. A sense of belonging and rightness settled in her chest and with it a curiosity and excitement was growing inside of her. She hadn’t felt that in a very, very long time she realized.

Her life in the past few years had definitely taken a turn and, when the Marriage Law had come into effect, she found herself wondering when the world had turned topsy turvy. While she was still trying to manage her idea of being married to her former nemesis and all that may entail, this Department with places unexplored by her eyes standing before her gave her a sense of belonging that she had been missing since leaving Hogwarts. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit the only ground she had kept under her was when with Ron and Harry but as their lives started growing apart because of everyday life, work, this Marriage Law, she found the rocky ground below her shifting and the world of unknown making her a little shaky. But now she could explore so many questions she had without dire consequences or constraints. Hope filled her to her very core making her magic tingle under her skin.

“Mrs. Malfo-er, Hermione,” A smile slipped from Mr. Burns. “Welcome, welcome to the Department of Mysteries. We are so happy to have you joining our ranks.”

Hermione grinned as she slipped through the door and came to stand a few feet from him, accepting his outstretched hand.

“I’m so excited, and thankful, to be here,” she reassured as she gazed at the simple walls around them. From where they stood, near a secretarial desk with a young woman whose blonde hair was cropped short and warm brown eyes that greeted her kindly. 

“Miss Fairway this is Hermione Granger, now Malfoy. Hermione this is Miss Fairway - anything you need you should be able to ask her and she’ll locate it, or contact me for assistance.” He pointed to a door behind the desk and the young woman. “That’s my office. I’m not often in there,” a chuckle as he turned toward the hall to the right. “But at least I have one, I suppose.” Walking toward the hall, he gestured for Hermione to follow him over his shoulder. She bid goodbye to Miss Fairway who was quickly writing down things in a notepad before her. 

* * *

The rest of the day, Mr. Burns went about all the different chambers explaining what each one was and its purpose. He broke it down to The Love Chamber - a name that explained itself. While she knew love was important in life, she wasn’t ready to dive into this room. Her interests never once led her this way and she didn’t feel this was the place for her. Mr. Burns agreed.

The Death Chamber, a room she was familiar with from her school age days, left a sense of longing in her but only because she felt the memories of someone from her past. With one glance back into the room, she found herself backing out quickly. She had attempted an apology but Mr. Burns seemed to understand.

The Brain Room - something she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard of before but she felt herself getting curious as he went on to explain about what it was. Because of the statute of secrecy with her position, she felt excitement dimming that she wouldn’t be able to explain  _ anything _ to  _ anyone _ outside the department. The Brain Room may be her one place to talk out ideas and possibly many things beyond that.

The Space Chamber held no excitement for her. She hardly got on a broom she wasn’t about to explore space where she would be floating on who knows what. Jumping from planet to planet did not seem to appease her at all. Mr Burns laughed at her remark and showed her to the last room.

The Time Chamber. This room was the room she was most interested in and thankfully, Mr Burns seemed to agree with this assessment. As he had stated previously with her knowledge of Time Turners he believed she could do a great many things. As she walked in and found herself surrounded by clocks of all different sizes and shapes, her jaw dropped and her eyes blew wide open. She didn’t even turn to look at her companion as she started to walk around and glance at all the different items floating about, or stationery on shelves. Between some of the clocks she saw various Time Turners of different metals. Glancing back, she saw Mr. Burns situated at a desk talking to another employee, content to let her explore. The farther she got into the hall she felt a small tug toward a corner of the room. 

With a furrowed brow, she found herself near a rather low shelf. On that shelf lay three clocks, all plain in nature and terribly old, but as she picked them up a feeling of wrongness overtook her. Gently she set them down but as she went to put the last one in its place she saw a dark metal Time Turner situated behind the spot. Gentle as can be, she picked it up and examined the piece. The metal was gunmetal gray, so dark it seemed to want to suck in the light, but the gems across one of the rings shone so brightly. Purples and greens and yellows. Amethyst. Emerald. Tourmaline. If Hermione had to guess.

The sense of wrongness went away as she found herself holding the Time Turner in her hand. Making her way back to Mr. Burns, she showed him the Time Turner she had located.

“Is there anything special about this?” She wondered as her eyes went over the design. On a separate ring were carved etchings but upon first glance she was unable to distinguish their origin. 

“May I?” 

She handed it over to his outstretched hand. He took it between his fingers and squinted as he looked back and forth over the device. 

With a shrug, he set the item back in her hands. “I have no idea where that came from but sometimes things reach out to specific people.” He glanced at her then back to the dark colored Time Turner. “I can feel Dark Magic in it, so I would proceed with caution. However, it called to you for a reason. I’ve seen different objects reach out for different people over time.” He chuckled at his pun, but then turned his stare back to her. His jaw setting. “No experiments without my consent for the next month. We need you prepared before we have you jumping into different things.”

“Yes, sir.” She agreed as she went to place it back, but was stopped when the other employee stood up. A dark haired male, not one she recognized from her school years, stepped forward with a grin.

“You might as well place it on your desk.” He pointed to the opposite end of his desk where an empty desk sat. “It’ll just keep calling to you and you don’t want to have to cross all the way into the room every day.”

“Thanks.” Going to her side, she took a seat and set it in the middle of her desk. “What is your history?” She whispered to the item.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter Ten -**

Two months passed and Hermione was in love with her new job. She left for work early, came home late, and sometimes worked weekends. Her relationship - if one might call it that - with Draco was that of a roommate, but after he realized her crazy work schedule she found him waiting up for her some nights. Most nights. With dinner waiting. They would take the time to catch up on one another's days - with what information Hermione could give him and, for a good time, this worked for the two of them. They entered a comfortable period where they were more than acquaintances. They became companions. Hermione enjoyed their conversations at night when they’d get onto different topics ranging from herbs and their benefits, to magical creatures. Though the last topic caused a few arguments but it passed quickly. No grudge was held on to and that gave her a new appreciation for the man before her.

If she were being honest, she was growing quite fond of him as time passed. He was so vastly different from the boy she had grown up with all those years ago. Yes, there were certain traits he still held on to - arrogance, snark, and a sense of self. That sense of self was something she sometimes envied as she still struggled day to day. Especially with the times changing and her contact with Ron and Harry slimming. Moving to the Department of Mysteries had definitely helped some of those issues by giving her something to put her focus on. Harry would tell her she was putting too much stock into her career. Ron would just reassure her and say, “You’re Hermione.” As if that would explain everything about herself. While she appreciated their confidence in her, some days she lacked it when she tried to look into her future - something so dark and murky. So, for now, she was going to put her focus into work and hope everything else would fall into place over time.

* * *

It didn’t take long before Draco was noticing the change in her demeanor. Their usual night chats became quieter and quieter until they’d end up sitting in the dark, in silence. Her head usually leaned against the palm of her hand as her eyes drooped down. He didn’t miss the change in her appearance either. It altered slowly with each pass of time. Her hair, while still wild, was starting to look more frazzled and frizzy then it had been since their school days. Her eyes a little more sunken in and eventually, he noticed the dark circles coming to keep her company. What terrified him most though was her lack of appetite. She’d usually end up just playing with her food before finally giving up and bidding a good night. By month two she would only eat half her meal unless he could coax her, threaten her, to eat more. He would mention it in passing and she’d wave him off with that tired smile, and he’d have to fight with himself on what to do next. 

His gut was telling him that something more was happening then just what she was telling him. She had explained earlier on that there was limited information she could reveal to him because of the nature of her job. When she had started her first experiment, something she could tell him but not explain what it was, he had seen the excitement light up her features. But after a month, same experiment with no results, he watched her demeanor and appearance slowly falter. Worry gnawed at him each night as he watched her trail up to bed with a slump in her shoulders. Defeat. He recognized it, but faltered about how to help when he wasn’t quite certain about where the line was drawn between the two of them, and the lack of information about what precisely she was in the middle of for work.

One more week and he broke. He couldn’t handle it anymore. He had to sit down and talk to her about what was happening - to see if there was something he could do. The changes were beginning to stress him to the point he was losing sleep. Whatever was affecting her was starting to leak onto him and he couldn’t have that happening. Part of him wondered if she had been cursed, but he had run as many diagnostic spells as possible. He was currently sitting in the Malfoy Library attempting to look for anything that could point him in the right direction. Frustration pulled at him as he placed another book back on the shelf, coming up empty for the millionth time. He wasn’t going to lie and say that he hadn’t thought about reaching out to one of his late father’s contacts, but that was swiftly pushed aside. He had to speak to her first. 

It wouldn’t take much more before he’d be pulling in Potter and Weasley because if he couldn’t get her to see reason, then the cavalry would have to pull her out of this weird slump. Worse case, Potter could throw his weight around and figure out what she was working on at that damned Ministry. 

Rubbing his neck, he packed up his things and headed toward the Floo at the front of the massive library. Placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose, he took a breath in an attempt to build up the courage he was going to need once he got home and waited for Hermione to return from work for the evening. While he knew it would be late, he realized he may need to fix a drink to deal with the former Gryffindor. While she was smart, she was also temperamental - his nose could speak to that from all those years ago. 

Slipping his robes on, he grabbed a fist full of Floo powder and called out for his residence. As he stepped through, dusting off as much of the remnants of powder from his trousers as possible, he came to a startled stop when he heard a sniffle. Looking up, he spotted his house elf pacing the floor before him. She tugged at her ears as she whispered frantically to herself, only stopping when she caught sight of him.

“Master Draco!” Daisy raced over to him and gripped his robes as tears threatened to spill down her squished face.

“Daisy? What in Merlin’s beard is the matter?” He gently pried her hands off him as he kneeled down to her level. Startled, he tried to understand the half gibberish sob escaping her but nothing that came out was distinguishable. With as much gentleness as possible, he took her cold wrinkly hands into his own as he gave her a one armed hug. Quietly, he waited to see if the sense of another person’s touch would calm her. It took a few minutes before she was able to stop her sniffling. “Alright, now try to tell me what is the matter?”

“Miss-Miss Hermione hasn’t come home since yesterday. She left for work and didn’t come home last night, and she hasn’t come home tonight!” Another sob escaping through her hands that came to cover her face as she wailed. 

“Okay, well she’s been really busy at work,” Draco soothed but a dark feeling in the back of his mind started to seep in. “Perhaps she stayed overnight. Let’s give it tonight and if she’s not home, I’ll reach out to Harry Potter, okay?”

She nodded her head into his shoulder, her floppy ear tickling his cheek. “Okay, okay.” Stepping back, she straightened her spine, sucked in a breath and walked out toward the kitchen. “I will make you dinner.”

“Alright, Daisy.” He stood from his spot on the floor. “Thank you. I’m going to make a quick call in my study.” He left his things on the floor where he had kneeled. Slowly, though he wanted to run, he walked over to his study. He’d be lying if he didn’t fear for what was going on with Hermione and now that Daisy was scared? That bloody terrified him. A dark tendril of fear gripped at his mind as he started to wonder if he was too late.

Throwing a little powder into his fireplace, he Floo-called the one person he could think might be able to help.

“Malfoy?” Harry Potter’s face came through the green flames. His familiar round glasses looking up at him. Heart in his throat, Draco scrambled to explain everything that was happening. Her late nights, her diminishing appearance, and now her disappearance. The more he talked the more sullen Potter seemed to become. 

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of her,” he admitted as Draco finished explaining everything. Draco watched as he shook his head. “I should have realized something is going on with her. I'll reach out to the Department Head now. Let me get back to you!” 

* * *

Draco knew the moment that Harry Potter entered his house rather than Floo calling, he was not going to like the news. He knew that there was a chance he’d punch Potter or cast a spell to break something, or even several somethings. It took one look at Harry Potter’s face to know that the news he was bringing would definitely not be welcoming. So, drawing his special stash out of the cabinet above the fridge, he poured two Firewhiskeys and leaned against the counter. Holding one out to Potter, who took it willingly, he watched as the Auror stood before him. This wasn’t Hermione Granger’s best friend, this was most definitely an Auror standing before him. The lines around his eyes and the stern expression tugging at the frown spoke volumes.

As Potter paced the kitchen, his voice picking up in volume, Draco came out his fog. Eyes that were lost in thought quickly focused on the pacing man before him, seeing the lines of stress etched into the Auror’s face. Gripping his glass a little tighter, he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“-they have no clue where she is. They have no idea what happened to her. They weren’t even aware she was working so many hours.” He came to a stop and pulled his glasses off his face. “The Head said that he demanded Hermione take a week off and clear her head. She wasn’t at work for the past three days, according to Burns.”

Draco froze, his drink barely touching his lips. A frown tugged at his mouth. “Where is she then?”

“I have no idea! I’ve tried every spell to locate her. I’ve even attempted some less than legal spells,” he winced. At Draco’s cocked eyebrow, he gave a one shoulder shrug. “The Black’s library has some useful, if unsavory, books. Hermione’s not the only one who reads...” Rubbing the back of his head, he mumbled under his breath as he began to pace once more. “They noticed the same things you did, but she pushed on. Some spiel about how she was fine but Burns demanded she take a break. If she wasn’t at work for the last three days though, where could she have gone? There aren't many places she’d disappear to... and why wasn’t her supervisor aware of what exactly she was working on?”

“Potter! I know you’re speculating, but we need to stop and really think about this.” Draco downed his drink and let the glass dangle from his fingers as he stared at the floor. “She couldn’t have just disappeared. She wouldn’t just -” He paused. They weren’t close so perhaps she may not tell him, but she’d have told somebody. “She would tell you or Ron if she was leaving. She wouldn’t just be… gone. That’s not something she would do.” 

Harry hesitated as he took a step back. “She would have told us something, Draco, but she didn’t really mention anything going on.” 

“Did the Department of Mysteries say what she was working on?” Harry shook his head, violently enough that his glasses slipped again. 

“They stated that they couldn’t tell me the parameters of what she was working on, other than it was carefully monitored for the first two weeks. They said that she turns in notes on a weekly basis and she has yet to actually use, or even think about, using a Time Turner.”

“She’s working with Time Turners?!” Draco shouted, his glass coming into his grasp completely. He felt his fingers tightening. “Time Turners are very intricate work! And they’re dangerous if not used properly! Why are they playing with such a device?”

“Malfoy,” Harry raised his hands and waved them in front of his face in an attempt to keep the blonde from attacking. The rage was clearly building below the surface and from his spot across the kitchen, opposite of Malfoy, he could see the fire building in his eyes. Fire wasn’t quite right. It was a storm. One of thick thunder clouds ready to release lightning. So as gently as possible, Harry attempted to reassure him. “Hermione’s very familiar with Time Turners. She used one all of her third year at Hogwarts.” He took a deep breath. “She’s bloody brilliant, and I’m sure she was very careful, but I cannot locate her… Could that mean…”

“Do not go there.” Draco bit out. His voice turned deadly, quiet and gravelly, smoke over jagged glass.

* * *

Hermione Granger was gone. The Ministry issued a world wide search for her. Sending several Aurors to the Malfoy residency, questioning Draco in her disappearance, but nothing came of it. No one could locate her or even clue together where she had been the three days before her disappearance. The Department of Mysteries had shut themselves off from any searches but claimed she had not been anywhere near their facility during those days. They had given Potter the notes from her project. But it had proven useless when almost every other word had been redacted. Lines of black bleeding into the few words that were available.

What was worse was the fact that no matter who they talked to no one saw anything. No one heard anything. No one knew anything. Not Draco Malfoy. Not Ronald Weasley. Not Harry Potter. Not Mr. Burns. No one knew what had happened. Draco had been dragged through the mud in the papers about her disappearance. Hate mail flew in more often than not over the fact that the pure-blood’s Muggle-born wife had disappeared. How could he have not killed her? 

It had taken Harry Bloody Potter stepping in and reiterating the magic behind the Marriage Law that would not allow harm to come to one’s spouse by their hands. Many pointed out that he could have hired someone, but again Potter stepped forward and put on a pretty speech about how distraught Hermione Granger’s husband was. Malfoy hadn’t particularly liked that little piece, but it had worked keeping the masses out of his life for the most part. 

After three months, the Ministry had given up their help in the search. Claiming that there was nothing more they could do on their end. Even the masses who adored the Golden Girl seemed to have dismissed it entirely. The Ministry had even pulled Potter off of the search, but Draco would not deter from locating her. He placed his studies on hold and began to comb through her room for any hints or clues as to what she was doing. Found himself more often than not in the Malfoy Manor once more, hidden within the library combing through the different texts. 

His only ray of hope in the darkest of times was that on the Black Family tapestry next to his portrait was his wife’s as well. Harry had called him over to tell him about the Ministry’s decision in pulling him from the search when he saw the tapestry. Just when he was about to give in to the despair that was tracing its claws at the back of his mind, he saw her face and a new sense of purpose lit him up from the core. 

Draco had been combing a book, written in a messy script of Latin, when a summons from Potter arrived. It hadn’t been uncommon for that to happen every once in a while when a lead appeared. Or news - usually bad news - arrived. Taking the book from his hands, he placed it back on the shelf before forcing himself to stand up from the floor he had been kneeling on. With a frustrated sigh, he brushed his growing blond locks from his forehead and pushed them back. He quickly righted all the misplaced books beside him before making his way over to the Floo. With a fist full of powder, he shouted ‘Potter Residence’.

“Malfoy,” Potter greeted as he showed up that night. “Thanks for coming.” They shook hands as they started down the hall. 

“I thought you were off the case,” Draco muttered, following behind him, ignoring the slurs from the portraits shouting at him as he passed. Some he recognized from similar portraits at the Manor, but others he only knew from their name plates below the portrait. 

“Just because they’ve pulled me from the case in an official capacity, does not mean I will not be doing everything I can in an unofficial capacity.” A smirk of his own lit up his features but trailed off as Draco came to an abrupt stop before an open doorway.

Stepping into the room, he found himself walking toward a familiar tapestry on the wall. He felt his insides twist as he recognized so many familiar faces, some as familiar as his own. As his eyes trailed down to his name, he felt a new sense of rightness settle in when he saw another face next to his own, intertwined with roots to show their line of marriage.

“She’s been on there since your marriage,” Potter muttered from behind him. Draco turned and smirked. 

“She’s alive.” 

Potter frowned at him. “I mean, yes, but you say this as if you are absolutely certain - we have no way of knowing…”

Draco pointed above his portrait to where his mother’s likeness was next to a shadowed out Lucius Malfoy. “If she were dead, she’s look like him.” Potter leaned forward to inspect the tapestry, pushing his glasses up. “Or all those who have passed.” He pointed to all the long since deceased portraits that were gray, shadowed.

“Well, I’ll be…” Potter trailed off before straightening. Turning back to face Malfoy, the pair wore matching smirks. “We’re going to find Hermione Granger. She’s alive and we’re going to find her.”

“Count me in.” Draco turned to see Daphne Greengrass, or rather Potter, leaning against the empty door frame. Her hair done up in some sort of fancy updo. Her green eyes watching shrewdly but a smile on her face. He returned her smile before turning back to the portrait on the tapestry. Hermione’s golden eyes gleamed back at him. A knowing smile on her face as her likeness looked straight at him.

“We’re going to find her Malfoy.” Potter reiterated from behind Malfoy. Daphne walked over to join Potter letting his arm come around her. “Hermione wouldn’t give up on us, so we sure as bloody hell won’t give up on her.” 

Draco could only nod but he didn’t let his gaze drop from the image before him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

**Chapter Eleven -**

Hermione pushed open the door of the dark, closed in space she suddenly found herself. Coughing a bit, she tried to clear the dust that fluttered as she stumbled her way out. Instead of walking gently, she found herself falling to her knees as she tumbled outward and down, not realizing there would be a change in altitude. Glancing over her shoulder, she glared at the inanimate object before her glare dissipated into a confounded expression. Her brows furrowed as she glanced up into an aged cabinet. Oddly familiar. 

“What in the bloody hell is a vanishing cabinet doing here?” Better question, why was she in one, she wondered as she pushed herself up from the ground. Gazing about the room, she found herself surrounded by old furniture, a thick layer of dust covering everything within view. She felt around her body in an attempt to find her wand, but laughed hollowly when she found it located in her hair, holding up the messy bun she had placed atop her head. Taking it out, allowing her hair to tumble around her shoulders, she attempted to Apparate. Worry began to set in when she realized nothing was happening. As she flicked her wand again, she tried another spell but found that she was unable to send a Patronus either. 

_ You’re on your own Hermione, _ she reprimanded herself as she tried to brush the dust from her jeans. Pulling her jacket closer, zipping it to her chin, she started to think of a game plan.  _ You’ve lived without magic before, so you don’t need magic to fix this. Step one: Get out of here.  _ As she glanced around for a way out of the storage filled space, she noticed there was only one window. It only gave a miniscule of light through the dust covered panes. Thankfully during her perusal though, she located a door on the opposite side of the room. 

As she stepped out of the room, she found herself in a darkly shadowed hallway. Wand before her, she whispered, “Lumos” to light her way through the strange place but grew frustrated when her magic would still not come to her aid. Carefully, with more caution now that she was aware of her lack of defense, she moved quietly down the hall. Confusion and worry started licking at her senses as she tried to navigate the strange building - reminiscent of a home, but obviously unused and possibly untouched in years due to the amount of dust everywhere. Lack of furniture in all the rooms she peeked in was further evidence of it’s vacancy. 

“Where the bloody hell am I?” She murmured to herself as she made her way out the huge structure. Taking several steps back, she gazed up at the decrepit house trying to think back and decide if she recognized it. Nothing triggered in her memories though as she peered around. It was a lone house on a dirt road. Trees and forest surrounded it. A few more steps back, she attempted to Apparate but again, nothing happened. 

A frustrated scream escaped her as she stomped her foot in the ground. Tears filled her eyes but she brushed them off angrily.  _ This is not the time, _ she reminded herself as she looked around again. Pulling the hood of her jacket over her head as she noticed the darkening skies above her, she set out down the dirt path in hopes it led somewhere. Anywhere where she might be able to use her magic and get some bloody answers.

* * *

To say her day was hell would be placing a light description to what she was truly feeling. When she had walked into the Ministry, after a few miles walk before she was able to Apparate, only to be gawked at like some leper. Sure, she was wearing Muggle attire but there was no need to act like the world was ending. It didn’t help matters when fingers had been pointed at her and whispers began stirring. That had incensed her to walk just a bit faster to get to Harry.

Her memory must have been tampered with or something, she realized on her walk. The last thing she remembered was being at work and, even with that memory, the details were a bit fuzzy. Someone had  _ kidnapped  _ her and placed her in a vanishing cabinet that sent her half way across England, or who knows where, because if she were being honest she had no clue where she had come from. There had been a few street signs but they were old, so old that they had been carved out of wood so she wasn’t entirely sure how dependable they were.

As she stepped out of the lift on the Auror floor, where she could find Harry, a few people stopped mid step to stare at her. She met their stares with a challenge in her gaze as she walked past. Without even knocking, she pushed her way into Harry’s office and threw herself into a chair before his desk. Without saying a word, she waited for him to glance up from whatever document he was currently reading.

“Ron, I already told you -”

“Oh come off it, Harry,” She grumbled. “I’m not Ronald, nor do I wish to be.” Harry’s quill dropped from his hand as his head whipped up. His eyes widened as he stared her down. “Okay, seriously is there something on my face? I’ve been stared at since I got here!” She brushed a hand around her face feeling around for whatever may be making the public take notice so obviously and point fingers. “I know I’m in Muggle clothes but that shouldn’t bother you of all people,” she admonished. Standing from the chair, leaving the space she began to pace before the door. Her hands moved around in the air before her in a manic manner. Quick, jolted movements through the air. “I’ve come to report a crime.” She turned to face him, placing her hands on the chair in front of her and leaning forward. Her voice escalated with every word. “Harry, I think I was kidnapped! Possibly had a memory charm placed on me! I woke up in a strange place and have no idea how I got there. I couldn’t even Apparate or send a Patronus either.”

“H-hermione, you-what - you’re,” he fumbled for words.

“Oh spit it out, Harry James Potter! I’m trying to REPORT A CRIME!” Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. She crossed her arms as she leaned back in the seat to look over at him. “You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost,” she hissed, unhappy.

“Hermione,” Harry tried to relocate his tongue as he pushed back from the desk. The words seemed to be leaving him as quickly as they came. Slow, with more thought in his movements then she’d seen before, as if he was trying not to spook her, he walked around the desk to stand in front of her. A few feet before her, he took the time to study her. She watched him cross his arms, a hand on his forearm where he kept his wand. Worry ate her then when she noticed the placement. His appraisal of her, clearly clinical, caused her to fidget. It took several moments before his gaze shifted upward. As he came to meet her eyes, a sense of recognition seemed to alight his green eyes. “It’s really you,” he whispered as he stared at her, wonder shining in his eyes. With a quick grab, she found herself enveloped in a bear hug, arms like bands wrapped around her. Confused, she pulled her head back as she heard a hiccup escape her friend. His shoulders shook as he held her in his grasp.

“Harry, I know I have been busy but we see each other more often than not,” she reassured as she patted his back. “I’m terribly sorry about being absent lately with my project, but I could have sworn we talked last week. I’ll try to make more time. I’m sorry to have upset you. Are you okay?”

Harry pulled back, his jaw dropping as he stared down at her. She noticed his glasses were taped in the center and a crack in one lens. “Oh, Harry, when are you going to learn how to do this yourself?” She pulled her wand out and cast the proper incantation.

“Hermione, do you know what day it is?”   
“I don’t know… Monday?”   
“Of what year?”

“Harry, you know what year it is. Why are you asking these questions? You’re beginning to scare me.” Hermione backed out of his space and started tracing the letters down her arm as she tried to pull herself together. Her brain trying to catch up but scrambled, she found herself growing more anxious, frustrated.

“‘Mione,” he whispered. “You’ve been missing for close to a year.”

“No, no I was at work yesterday.” She rubbed her arm. “I was working in the department, I…” she trailed off as she came up blank. Her eyes widened and flew to look into her friend’s emerald gaze. “Harry, what’s happened to me?” Fear gripped the base of her spine and held her frozen. “How could I - I don’t… where have I been?” Her broken whisper quiet to her own ears. 

“I don’t know.” He murmured gently, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he watched her. “Draco and I have been looking high and low for you since you disappeared.”

“Malfoy? Wouldn’t he be happy to no longer be attached to a silly little Mudblood,” she grumbled harshly before pacing again, pulling her sleeve back down to cover up her scar.

“Hermione… you and Draco are married, the Marriage Law.”

“Yes, yes I know, Harry - but that doesn’t erase the past. He hates Mudbloods.” She watched from the corner of her eyes as Harry took off his glasses and rubbed a hand down the side of his face. 

“Hermione, stop pacing for Merlin’s sake and listen for just a bloody minute.” He leaned back against his desk, his glasses back in place. “You and Malfoy are not enemies, you guys actually got along pretty well once you got past your animosity.” He took a deep breath, sucking in and causing his chest to puff up before he blew it out shallowly. “I need you to sit down with me and tell me your last memories, where you ended up, how you got here… I  _ have to call Malfoy _ .” His glare left no room for argument but Hermione opened her mouth only to be silenced with a swift hand in the air. “He has worked tirelessly for a year, Hermione, looking for you. Not only that, he’s your husband and we need to let him know you are okay.”

“Fine,” she hissed out.

* * *

Harry Potter could count on his hands and toes the amount of hard conversations he’d had in his line of work, but as Draco Malfoy came racing down the hall to meet him he felt like this would be taking the cake. Wincing, he held a hand up before Malfoy could ask him anything.

“She’s safe,” he started but hesitated as he tried to formulate the words bungled around in his head. None of it made sense to him so why would it make sense to the man before him. 

“Where is she?” He dropped his gaze for a moment before bringing it up, steeling himself against what was coming.

“Draco,” he paused. “She’s safe and I’ll take you to see her in a moment, but I need to tell you a few things before you go barreling in there and scare her.”

“Scare her?” Harry watched what little color drain from his face. “Did- did something happen to her? Did-” he watched the Adam apple bob on Malfoy as he paused. “Did someone hurt her?”

Harry shook his head. “No, but we think someone altered her memories. She didn’t realize she’d been gone for a year. She says she was working and then was in a cabinet. No memory from in between.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He dropped his eyes to the floor as he felt the words leave his lungs in a rushed jumble. “She also doesn’t quite remember the relationship between the two of you.”

“... She doesn’t know we’re married?” Draco stepped back as he felt a pit in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole. 

“No, no,” he said as he moved back to start walking down the hall. “She remembers the Marriage Law, remembers the two of you being married but she thinks you both are still enemies. That you still hold some animosity towards Muggle-borns. ”   
“Fucking lovely,” Draco murmured. 

“Look, mate,” Harry stopped a few feet away having realized that his companion was no longer following. “She’s aware that her memory is altered, so she’s going to be pretty open to what we say… Mostly, I think...” he trailed off as he watched Malfoy lean back against the wall of the hallway, his shoulders slumped down. 

Draco nodded absently as he closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his mouth. He stopped in the middle of the hall as he tried to process everything coming at him. Less than an hour ago, he found out his wife was still alive. He found out the woman he’d been spending time with and growing to respect, appreciate, was not dead. Was not long gone. He knew that she wasn’t dead - the tapestry was proof of that, but fear had been threatening to take him over the last few months. Doubt had started to settle into his bones. But she was very much alive and she was  _ finally _ found. 

Now, standing before Potter, he was finding out that the relationship they had grown in together was depleted, wiped from her memory. All the work he put toward fixing bridges and mending fences was gone and they were back to square one. To top it off, he had the year to realize his feelings for his wife and she was without any memory of even the friendship they had together. 

“Let’s get this over with so I can get home and drink myself into a stupor,” he gritted out as he started down the hall once more to face the one woman with the power to stir terror in him without saying a single word. Touching his nose gently, he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was coming. In his gut he knew the unpleasantness that would be coming with this conversation, but it did nothing to settle the jumble of nerves inside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome


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